The Promise of Sartorius
by Lady Liadan
Summary: Lucius Malfoy has doubts about being a Death Eater - with reason. The ill-fated battle at the Ministry of Magic lands him in prison. What will be his sentence? Can his lover save him? What will Narcissa do? Sequel to "Secret of Sartorius"
1. A Late Night Conversation

**Introduction**

This story is a sequel to "The Secret of Sartorius". While "Secret" takes place before the events in the Harry Potter books, "Promise" runs in parallel with "Order of the Phoenix" and continues beyond, describing some events from Lucius' perspective.

As always I am merely out to play and enjoy myself, and do not make any money from my efforts. All original characters belong to the immortal Ms Rowling. Jason Isaacs owns the visual, sensual, and generally thud-worthy appearance of Mr. Malfoy. I only own the Sartorius family and a few Durmstrang teachers and students.

As regards the idea behind the story, I am working under the premise that while Lucius is very adamant about the purity of blood ideology, he is rather conflicted about his situation as a Death Eater, and I want to explore what will happen after his arrest and punishment.

The story contains a few explicit scenes of a sexual nature, which I flatter myself are part of the plot and not gratuitous smut. In any case, you've been warned.

Also, unless you are a Death Eater in the employ of the Dark Lord, do not, under any circumstances, dabble in demon invocation. The process I'm describing in the story is pretty close to the real thing, and you don't want to do this without the proper training or a reliable exorcist nearby. As Lucius would say: "Do not try this at home, you miserable muggles!"

So, without further ado, practice the three Rs: Read, Revel, Review!

**A Late Night Conversation**

_"Master, go on, and I will follow thee. To the last gasp with truth and loyalty" (William Shakespeare. As You Like It: II, iii)_

Lucius Malfoy stretched restlessly on the luxurious thick fur rug beneath him. To his left a crackling fire sent waves of heat down his naked flank. He reached over, took a sip of blood-red wine from a silver goblet by his side and looked up where heavy carved oak columns supported the beams of a vaulted roof. Interlacing dragons painted in red and gold chased each other along the heavily tooled wood. Between the columns ornate tapestries embroidered with knotwork and flames moved lazily in the raising heat, while outside a wild spring storm howled around the walls and caused the ancient wooden structure of the hall to creak ominously on occasion.

At the far end of the room, hidden from view by a screen two women talked in quiet voices in Icelandic. He tuned out the conversation and listened to the wind. The weather was only marginally worse than his mood. All week he had looked forward to his visit to Durmstrang. For several years now the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher had been his mistress, and he had become accustomed to spending many of his weekends at the House of Fire, one of the four school halls, in her chambers and in her company.

He had first met Eleanor Sartorius the year before Draco had begun to attend school. She had held a position as the teacher for muggle studies at Hogwarts, and he had been on the board of governors. She was the granddaughter of Falco Sartorius, one of the most famous pureblood dark wizards in Germany. And despite the fact that the Sartorius and the Malfoys did not have a very amicable history – his father had killed her uncle at the behest of Lord Voldemort, they had been drawn together.

They had barely had time to get to know each other when they found themselves involved on opposing sides in a plot to restore the Dark Lord to his former power. Amazingly enough they had both chosen a course of action that put them at odds with the people who thought they could lay claim to their allegiance: Dumbledore for her and George Lepidus, the leader of the Death Eaters, for him. Instead they had teamed up and fought together for their own ends, saving each others' lives a few times over in the process.

After that Eleanor had kept his interest. Her parents had exiled themselves to London to flee Voldemort's wrath when she had been a little girl, and had for the most part brought her up as a muggle. Their only acknowledgement of her abilities had been her schooling at Durmstrang.

Despite what Lucius considered a seriously underprivileged childhood, she had considerable magical talent, and the wit, guts and intelligence to match. While she did not share his sympathies for the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, her sense of honor allowed her to respect his commitments. In the meantime they connected very well in other areas, such as alchemy and potions-making, magical books, research into the dark arts; and, of course, as was appropriate for a mistress, copious and abandoned sex.

Just not tonight... He swallowed down the rest of the wine grimacing in disgust. He might as well get drunk, as he could not screw up his performance any worse. It hadn't been her fault, either. He had apparated in a towering rage and had simply not been able to concentrate. She had finally offered him a massage on the large bear rug in front of the fire place in order to calm him down. Just as he had started to relax and enjoy himself somewhat, someone had knocked on the door to her chambers. With an exasperated sigh she had got off him, grabbed her dressing gown and let her visitor in. Now she was talking to the woman behind the screen in her study.

Lucius rolled his head from side to side willing the kinks out of his tense muscles and tried to forget the events of the last few days. Conditions of service to Lord Voldemort had reached an all-time low. Being a Death Eater these days bore close resemblance to being someone's house elf. For almost two years now all of the Death Eaters had been obsessing over that Potter brat, courtesy of the Dark Lord's fixation. Not that Lucius didn't feel that Harry Potter deserved everything that Voldemort might have in store for him.

He still hadn't forgiven the little pest the incident with his house-elf. But revenge was no fun when he was being sent half-cocked on fool's errands. He lacked vital information, because others, including Voldemort, hadn't done their homework. And then he was the one who was being blamed!

It had all started to go downhill when Voldemort had actually threatened him, the chief Death Eater, his most loyal and powerful servant, with the _cruciatus_ last winter. Frustration didn't even begin to describe it. And now the strain had finally begun to mess up his love-life.

As he was thinking of getting up to refill his goblet he heard the conversation in the next room become more animated. It seemed the visitor finally got ready to leave. A few seconds later he could distinguish the creak of a heavy door. A metal latch fell into place, and as he lifted his head he saw Eleanor step back into her bedroom. She wore a deep green silk gown loosely belted at her narrow waist. Her flaming red hair cascaded down her back in a riot of lose curls that caught the fire light as she moved. Now she smiled at him and approached him with a seductive sway of her hips. Silk slid around her in rippling whispering folds as she sank down at his side.

He reached over and pulled on the sash of her gown which fell open to reveal the velvety golden skin of her breasts and stomach. She met his eyes and slid the rest of the fabric off her, exposing herself to him as she stretched out beside him. "That was the headmistress," she explained. "Seems we have a bit of an emergency with two students in the House of Fire. Someone has gotten someone else pregnant. The girl's parents are furious. As head of house I need to meet with everyone tomorrow."

She pushed her hair back. "Stupid kids. They are both seventeen and therefore of age, which means they can invoke confidentiality when they ask the school nurse for a potion. Which part of contraception don't they understand? Now we have a girl from the pureblood Karkaroff clan carrying the child of a muggleborn boy. This will get very, very ugly. In the worst case the Karkaroffs will try and kill the stupid idiot. You know how hung-up they are on purity of bloodlines. I think I'm rapidly getting into your frame of mind, Lucius." She picked up the silver goblet, only to set it back with a sigh when she found it empty. "So tell me, how was you week, darling?"

He flinched at the endearment, knowing that she meant to tease him. Then he rolled over on his side, propped himself up on his arms and faced her. For a brief moment he watched as her eyes traveled along his body taking in the sight of him and her pupils dilated. He loved the way she still showed him in those small gestures how much he excited her. Then his dark mood returned. "I should not tell you this," he stated gruffly.

She just smiled. "Come on, now, you've been pretty tense for most of the time over the past few months. And now there is obviously nothing much else on your mind tonight. I didn't want to pry before but now you might as well make me an accomplice in misery."

She stretched out a hand and languidly traced the outline of his collar bones pushing his pale blonde hair off his shoulders. He sighed and captured her fingers in his hand. "Well you are not buying into the Ministry propaganda that You-Know-Who is dead, are you?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. Everyone here knows what happened to headmaster Karkaroff last year. No one can activate the dark mark save Voldemort. I have seriously considered stopping my delivery of the Daily Prophet, because of the drivel they produce. The Icelandic Hugtakasafn reports more and better than what comes out of London right now." "Well," admitted Lucius, "Part of that has to do with our – influence – on Minister Fudge."

He paused, then took the plunge. "It is getting ridiculous!" he bit out sharply. "Before the Dark Lord's demise we worked towards the domination of the wizarding world by the pureblood houses. We had a strategy for power and the subjugation of muggles and mudbloods. Rituals of might were performed, wizards researched dark magic, and we had a plan. Now, it's all about Potter! Harry – bloody! – Potter!"

He crushed her hand in his grip and she winced. "Sorry," he released her and instead balled a fist, slamming it into the soft, yielding fur beneath him. "For almost two years now we have been wasting time, effort and talent on chasing down and eliminating one stupid little scrawny orphan with a funny scar on his forehead."

He took a deep breath. There, he had finally admitted to it. If anyone heard him there would be hell to pay. Voldemort would most likely kill him for this act of rebellion and treason. Still as he had now begun breaking the ground on his grave, he decided to continue digging.

Eleanor looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he resumed his rant with full vigor. "Last year we did nothing but scheme and conspire to get Potter out of the protection of Hogwarts and to a place where Voldemort could get at him. There was an elaborate plot to change out a teacher, enchant a portkey and even have Potter win the rigged triwizard tournament. It was simply bizarre! In the end we got it done. Potter had apparated in the graveyard where we were waiting for him – and he got away. Something about his wand interacting with the one of the Dark Lord. Voldemort couldn't even finish the job. All our work for nothing!

This year it's even worse. Some time ago a prophecy was made about the boy and the Dark Lord. Now Voldemort wants it. Of course they keep it at the Department of Mysteries with all the other prophecies, and you can't just waltz into the Ministry and pick it up. It's high security."

He sighed, raked his hand through his hair. "Naturally as it was Ministry stuff, I got picked to be the one in charge. So mind this, now we are not even attempting to eliminate Potter any more, we are just after a lousy prophecy, since last bloody summer!

I can pretty much come and go as I please at the Ministry. Fudge is in my pocket thrice over. So it didn't seem much of a problem. I got a hold of Bode, an Unspeakable, who had clearance and put an _imperius_ on him to make him go and fetch the receptacle."

Malfoy stopped himself. He had just confessed to casting an unforgivable, a crime that carried a life-sentence in Azkaban. In all the years he had known Eleanor, he had never slipped up on his activities like that. He eyed her cautiously, but she merely stretched and looked at him expectantly.

"You seem pretty unimpressed," he said. His lover shrugged her shoulders. "Come on, Lucius, I have always known you aren't a choir boy. You are a Death Eater, murderer, adulterer and dark wizard, and I'm just warming up here. What's a little _imperius _among friends, eh?"

He lifted an eyebrow and gave a dry laugh. She seemed to take this much better than he had expected. "Well, it turned out that only those about whom a prophecy has been made can actually collect it. All other attempts are magically blocked and will incapacitate whoever attempts it. How was I supposed to know? So when I made Bode pick up the prophecy sphere, he ended up in St. Mungos. Lucky for us he couldn't speak and tell the aurors what put him in his condition. Of course we didn't get the prophecy either. You can imagine the Dark Lord's mood when I had to tell him."

The wizard shuddered at the memory. Eleanor gave him a sympathetic grimace. "Well, fortunately I can't as I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him yet, but I can imagine that it was unpleasant." "He threatened me with the _cruciatus_," Lucius answered bitterly. "Me! Right before the eyes and ears of everyone else!" "What happened then?" she asked. "Well, they started to work on Bode at the hospital, so I had to go in and finish the job. I bribed a nurse and sent him a poisonous plant for a present, which killed him."

Eleanor sighed. She was not exactly thrilled with what she had heard. When she had called her lover a murderer before, she had only affirmed to herself what she had known for a long time. But to hear him describe a recent example of his criminal behavior still felt disturbing. She thought she would really never get used to his dark side.

In moments when she faced up to the truth she was shamefully aware that she had elected to wear blinkers most of the time as far as he was concerned. She had become a complete addict to his physical attentions, and as he behaved himself as a complete gentleman in her presence, she found it easy to block everything else from her consciousness. He was a textbook case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and she was a certifiable partial amnesiac. 'Perfect match,' she chided herself.

Lucius watched the woman stretched out by his side intently. Her green eyes had darkened as she seemed to drift off into her own thoughts. He could tell that his description of his recent activities had upset her, and he upbraided himself. Normally he kept her shielded from his life as a Death Eater, but over the last few days, his frustrations had mounted to a just unbearable degree.

And who else could he talk to if not her? He did not trust any of the other followers of Voldemort. They would report the slightest sign of weakness on his part to their master and would gleefully tear him down.

His wife and son perhaps? Narcissa would throw a fit at the risks to which he exposed the fortunes and future of the family. Unlike her sister Bellatrix, she contented herself with her respectable position in wizarding society. Draco on the other hand would approve, but then take everything he was told directly to Potter by mouthing off and bragging about it at school. Dumb! Had to be the Black blood. They had already spawned two idiots in his generation, Sirius and Andromeda. And Narcissa wasn't exactly the brainy type either. It was probably hereditary…

His colleagues at the ministry? He could see it now: 'Morning Arthur. How's the wife? How are the little Weasleys, all 27 of them? Fine? Splendid! Oh myself, yes, I am fabulous, my dear Arthur. Being a Death Eater is so much fun these days. Oh, surprised? Sorry, didn't mean to shock you there. Yes, been at it for years. Just love the costume, hood and mask. Tell you, absolute winner with the ladies. And muggles? They see you and just piss on themselves. Hilarious! You should try it. It's a riot. Just come on over to the next meeting. Old Voldie normally springs for the biscuits and tea.'

He shook himself and turned back to Eleanor, who was now regarding him gravely. He reached out and ran his hand over her hips. "I recognize the look," he said calmly. "But believe me: I'm not happy about what I had to do, either. Bode was a decent enough fellow. Knew his stuff, knew when he was out of his depth, too. Actually came from a quite respectable family. And what did he have to die for? This stupid prophecy about the damn boy who lived. Who gives a newt's eye? I'm as ready to curse or kill someone as the next dark wizard, but this is pointless, gratuitous violence. At least you should have the courtesy to the victim to have their death serve a purpose, especially when they are pretty much pureblood.

In the meantime this squandering of resources is disgraceful. And of course after Bode we haven't been doing much of anything anyway. Now Voldemort is trying his hand at legilimency. He's trying to get into Potter's head to make him go to the Ministry to pick up the prophecy himself. So far it hasn't worked very well. Every Death Eater meeting is worse than the last, because he takes his frustration out on us.

Yesterday was the low point when he actually cursed Avery for not kneeling before him fast enough. And I keep wondering why he won't try to make Potter do something else, like go to some deserted location where he can be killed. Or even better, make him jump off some rampart at Hogwarts and get it over with. If you want my opinion, Voldemort has lost his marbles. Then again, what do you expect when you reconstruct your physical form using worthless scum like Peter Pettigrew for body parts?"

She closed her eyes for a moment as his thumb was now making slow languorous circles on the sensitive skin just below her hip bone. "You know, that is just warped," she murmured, "But if you keep doing this, I may forgive you almost anything." Lucius focused back on her. "This?" he asked with a speculative twitch of his lips, replacing his thumb with his nails, making her shudder and jump as he raked them lightly over her skin. "Ummnn," she purred. "This is even better. You were saying?"

He felt sparks jump from her skin to his fingertips, and finally something connected in his brain, hand and groin and he moved in on her. "I wasn't saying anything," he growled as he pushed her back into the soft fur and stroked his hands up her arms, gripping her wrists and spreading her out on her back. She gasped in surprise at his sudden shift from light teasing strokes to this more forceful possession of her body. He lifted her arms above her body pinning her down and spreadeagling her, and she arched her hips towards him in anticipation. "Seems getting it all off your chest was just the ticket," she breathed.

He gave her a smirk. "I wasn't thinking 'off your chest,' my dear. I was thinking 'on your chest,'" he quipped as he covered her body with his. His pale blond hair fell forward to surround her face and slipped over her shoulders as he moved down to kiss and lightly bite her nipples.


	2. For Pure Blood

**For Pure Blood**

_"Unto the pure all things are pure: but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled" (Titus: ch. I, v. 15)_

"You know," she said softly as she felt him stretch out behind her sleepily under the thick feather and fur comforters of her bed. "This will not end well." He shifted, apparently she had got his attention. "What do you mean?" She twisted around, facing him. The fire had burned down to the last glowing embers, and the cold from the outside began to seep into the vaulted room. She could scarce distinguish the features of his face. There lay barely a glint of fire-glow in his eyes and on his hair, and she was thankful as she found it easier to speak her thoughts into the darkness.

"You, Voldemort, the Death Eaters," she explained. "You have already lost your position at Hogwarts. You have lost a considerable amount of your reputation and a small fortune in bribes. With every attempt at leverage through blackmail the ranks of your enemies grow. How have the last 5 years increased your power? How have they brought you closer to your own goals?"

She laid her hand on his chest for emphasis and felt him shudder as she continued. "He will use you up, your money, your name, your honor, your family, maybe your life. And when you have nothing, when you are laid before him helpless, after you have given everything, he will grind your face in the dust under his foot and laugh." A long silence stretched between them after she had finished. Lucius seemed barely to be breathing.

Finally he stroked his hand over hers and spoke with a strange calm. "We have talked about this many times," he said. "And we never seem to be able to agree. Your family decides much of your direction in life for you, when you have the privilege of having ancestors worth mentioning. My father may have erred in many things, but I willingly followed him; and now it is a question of honor to continue down the path that my oaths have set me on.

I will do what I am sworn to do. And I am not yet despairing of victory. I still believe the great work can be accomplished. I still believe in the goals that we had when we began." And, with what she thought was tinted with stubborn desperation: "I have done too much, sacrificed too much, to give up now."

She lowered her head, touched her forehead to his chest and sighed. "You are right, we cannot agree," she admitted. "But you must know by now that I speak for no one else, that I don't follow an agenda when I seek to dissuade you. You must make a decision soon, don't you think? And right now listening to you, things seem to be going to hell in a handbasket. Draco is almost ready. Will you send him down the same path?"

Lucius pulled back. "Don't question me about my son," he said sharply. "You…" She interrupted him, harsher than she had intended. "Yes, I know, Lucius. I'm just the mistress. Sorry, I'm out of line." She thought she saw him shake his head in the half-light.

"Merlin, you and your temper, woman! No, that's not what I meant. Don't hold me hostage by appealing to my supposed fatherly obligations. I do not know what I will do about Draco yet. If I withhold him from service when the Dark Lord wants him, I doom us both, and probably Narcissa and the rest of the household as well. The next few months will either make or break us, I can feel it. I need to stick it out and try to maintain my status and my leverage and keep my options open. If I start to second-guess myself, I'm going to go under, don't you see that?"

Eleanor knew by know when she was pushing too hard. She ran a placating hand over his arm. "I understand, Lucius," she responded quietly. "I don't want you to follow my whims or get side-tracked by my hang-ups. I want you to follow your own will, to serve your own interest. Loyalty to a dubious cause is so unbecoming in a Slytherin, don't you think?"

He snorted at her last remark. "I may have my doubts and my frustrations, but I can assure you of one thing: I am not sticking with the Death Eaters out of some misguided Gryffindor nobility. If that's what's worrying you, let me tell you that I will always and foremost look out for myself and for my own."

She lay back down pillowing her face on her bent elbow. "If things get dangerous for you, I'd help you, you know that," she told him. "Just ask. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe as long as it doesn't aid Voldemort. After all, Defense against the Dark Arts has to be good for something."

Just as she felt his arms move under the sheets to reach for her, she suddenly heard a sharp hiss and a suppressed moan from him. "Lumos," she called out in alarm, and as candles flared up around them, she saw him sitting upright in bed, clutching his left forearm to his chest.

He seemed to have his pain under control now, after the initial surprise had passed. She didn't even have to ask what had happened as he stretched out his hand toward her, exposing the soft, pale skin a few inches above his wrist that showed the dark mark of the Death Eaters outlined in charred black.

The hatred in her green eyes that stared back at him hit him like a physical force, but he knew it was not aimed at him. His arm was throbbing painfully, as if he had just been scorched by flame, but he knew the sensation well by now and could ignore it. He nodded once at her to let her know he understood, then wordlessly swung his legs over the side of the bed, walked over to the chair that held his carefully folded robes and began to dress while she watched him.

He barely felt the touch of fabric on his skin as he concentrated on blocking out the burning of the mark. Everything was really governed by pain. It was the true currency of this world, not money, not status. When it came down to it people were helpless before it, would do anything to avoid it, betray loved ones, surrender their possessions, give up their very souls. He had seen it. He had even wielded that kind of power on the occasions when service to the Dark Lord necessitated torture. He knew the heady sense of mastery it gave, and had seen some of his associates like Walden and Bellatrix, perhaps even Voldemort himself grow addicted to it.

But he knew better, because he had also been subjected to it often enough to be aware that what was gained could easily be taken away, that the power of the torturer was ultimately hollow. No, in the face of pain the only true mastery that could be established was to overcome it: to feel it, to acknowledge it, and then to move on, to refuse to become its slave.

If he was truly grateful for anything to his father, it would be that lesson, taught through pain over the years of his childhood and adolescence: love nothing, depend on nothing, feel nothing. This steeling of his innermost core was worth more than all the wealth, pure blood and status of the Malfoys that had become his heritage. If he had one regret it was this: that he would not leave Draco as strong as his own father had left him. He could never determine to himself if this came from loving his son too much, or not enough.

He hoped he would be strong enough this time. He was sure that no one could use his emotions or his possessions as the ultimate leverage against him. They could destroy what he had and what he loved and he would persist. With regards to physical pain, Lucius had few illusions. He knew from firsthand experience what it did to the muggles and mudbloods who had he misfortune to cross him and his associates. Anyone could be broken, anyone would break eventually. It was just a question of knowledge of the human mind and body, and Voldemort was a supremely skilled master.

He shrugged into his fur-lined cloak and closed the silver serpent clasps that held the heavy fabric in place. Then he picked up his cane, bridged the distance to the bed with a few quick steps and bent down to kiss his lover. Strange name, he thought briefly, for someone whom he had never told he loved and who had never told him either.

Avoidance of pain, again, for both of them, for different reasons. It was such a delicate and complicated dance. "Take care of yourself, Lucius," she said quietly. He stroked her upturned face that spoke clearly of her worries. "I'll come back if I can, or I'll get word to you later." He forced a smile. "Don't wait up. I mean it!"

She watched him as he turned aside and touched the broad gold signet ring of the Sartorius that she had given him for his first birthday together. The portkey worked and with a soft popping noise the familiar black-robed figure disappeared. She fell back into the pillows with a groan and spoke a spell to douse the candles. The storm shook the hall with renewed vigor as she turned on her side and tried to fall asleep.

* * *

Lucius did not return that night, nor for the rest of the weekend, and Eleanor Sartorius was not surprised. She had hardly expected him back. At least he had sent word eventually that everything was going according to plan and that she needn't worry. He had also invited himself back for the following weekend with a few wry comments on how he hoped to be able to improve on his last visit.

Friday afternoon turned out to be as blustery and rainy as the previous days. Eleanor pulled her heavy cloak around her and spoke a repelling spell against the water as she prepared to make her way from the main dining hall over to the House of Fire. Professor Daniel Stolcius, the portly and balding alchemy master accompanied her, huffing at the speed with which she tried to get back under a roof. Finally she stood under the wood porch of the broad squat quadrangle of her house shaking out her robes and smoothing her hair down. "So what is it going to be then?" he asked petulantly, catching his breath.

"Mr. and Mrs. Karkaroff demand that an abortificant be administered, while Irina wants to keep her child, and her boy-friend has offered to be handfasted to her and assume responsibility. I've got everything brewed up, as the Karkaroffs wished. What are we going to do?" She sighed, making her way through the dark entry hall and heading towards the common room.

"We can't make her terminate her pregnancy, and neither can her parents, no matter how much they dislike the lineage of the father. She is of age, and so is he. They can throw her out and disinherit her, but they can't force her hand in this matter. My position as head of house is to respect and protect both students' wishes. If the worst happens, the house will offer them sanctuary. They still have an entire year to study before they can sit their NEWTs. For that time they will be safe here."

She opened the door to the common room where quite a few students were already busy working on assignments or talking to pass some time after lunch and before quiddich practice started. Eleanor walked over to a slim, pale-looking girl with raven-black hair sitting next to a freckled red-headed boy, who had one arm laid protectively around her. When the two young people saw the head of house and the alchemy master come towards them, both stared back in defiance.

Eleanor turned back to her companion: "Professor Stolcius, would you be so kind and round up the house prefect and the head boy and head girl and take them to my office. I will be there in a few moments." She now looked at her students. "We won't do it," the girl rushed in. Her companion looked at her and nodded. The head of house lifted a hand. "We aren't even debating that. Ease off, will you? I'm not the long arm of your family, Irina. Now if you and Lars would come with me, please. We still have a few things to discuss."

She turned without looking back and headed towards her chambers with the two young people in tow. In her office Professor Stolcius and three other students were already waiting. Eleanor invited everyone to sit and asked a house elf to build a fire and bring some butter beer. Everyone's nerves seemed so frayed that a bit of warmth and a drink would probably have a calming effect. Eventually they had all settled in and she opened the conversation going over the details once more for the benefit of the prefect and student heads of house, even though she was sure that the rumor mill had them even better informed than she was.

"So we have the following situation on our hands: The Karkaroff clan demands that the pregnancy is stopped, while Irina and Lars wish to become parents to this child," she summed up. "I have talked with the headmistress, and while it is clear that the Karkaroffs will bring pressure to bear on the school, we have to respect the wishes of a wizard and witch who are of age. As long as you continue your studies here we will house you and care for you and protect you. However, the Karkaroffs have made quite a name for themselves as dark wizards and some family members have displayed a certain degree of – ruthlessness over the years. I am convinced they will not let this matter rest so easily. Therefore I have called you," she turned to the prefect.

"Pjotr, you will need to organize additional protection. Consider it part of your Defense against the Dark Arts training. Tonight we'll post teachers as guards, but by tomorrow evening I would like to have a plan from you, how you intend to counter any remote or direct magical attacks. We will discuss it and I will make any additional recommendations. You will then put this plan into effect. You can draw on students who you feel have the necessary training to be useful to you. Again I would like to hear and review your ideas. The head boy and head girl will help you."

She dismissed the three students and then turned once again to the couple. "Lars, do your folks know, yet?" The boy nodded. "I told them. They're not thrilled, but we'll cope. If Irina loses her home, my family will take her in. We are eight at home, four of us are wizarding, the rest are muggles. Dad says it won't make much of a difference to have two more."

Eleanor nodded. "Then get organized on the handfasting. Let me know if you need any help. We can perform the ceremony here at school if you prefer that to doing it at your house. Irina, go see the school nurse and set up a schedule with her. We may want to involve the wizarding hospital in Reykjavik at some point as well. Professor Stolcius, I would ask you to bottle that abortificant for now and see if the school nurse needs any other potions. I don't think she keeps philters against morning sickness around as a matter of routine. And please find out if we need to stock up on contraceptive tonics. Some people seem to have missed out on that recently…"

She addressed the students one more time. "Don't get me wrong. What you did was thoughtless and stupid and completely unnecessary. We do not frown on sexual relations here at school, but we expect that people act responsibly. I do not wish this to become a precedent. This is an institution of study and learning, not a nursery. So if you start feeling smug and complacent at some point, don't. I will watch your school performance closely, and I will not tolerate your marks to slip. Is that understood?"

The two young people nodded. "Well, then get out of here, and keep your wits about you. Irina, if you get any indication that your family is planning an attack, I want you to contact me immediately, no matter what the time."

Finally everyone had left the office. Eleanor drank down the rest of her butter beer and grimaced. What a mess. She would have much rather spoken more kindly to the two youngsters, but it would be hard enough already as it was. She hardly could afford getting maudlin over the whole affair in public. Time to head back to the main house and make her report to the headmistress. She pulled down her cloak from the wall and muffled up.


	3. Fitting Punishment

**Fitting Punishment**

_"He who attacks must vanquish. He who defends must merely survive" (Master Khan)_

The owl on the perch by the desk was looking down on her parchment with a dubious light in his large orange eyes. The downy feathers below his beak pulsated quickly with his breath. If she didn't know better she would have thought the bird was impatient. Eleanor dipped her quill and resumed writing. She still had a ton of paperwork to go through and it was almost time for Lucius' arrival. Sometimes she resented the amount of administrative overhead that came with being head of a house.

Just as she got ready to roll up her letter she heard the familiar muffled crack of an apparition behind her and cursed softly under her breath. Malfoy and her had a certain agreement about being late – and it looked as if this time he'd be able to call her on it. She swallowed and turned round in her seat to face him as he walked up to her. As usual she could not help feasting her eyes on him.

The blonde wizard did not believe in sloppiness bred from familiarity. He could have come straight from an important social function. His white-blond hair was gathered at the nape of his neck without a single strand out of place. He wore a pale grey necktie tucked into a midnight-blue great-coat with a subtle paisley jacquard pattern, black wool pants over spotlessly shined boots and a black cloak lined with the same blue brocade as his coat. His gloved hands held his silver snake-head cane.

She got up to face him and with his customary grace he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it. Sometimes she had to inwardly smile at his serious formality, especially when it occurred to her that in an hour or so they would have reduced her bed to a state where sometimes she felt embarrassed for the house-elves who had to make it up the next morning. Still she knew better than to insist on a looser protocol. It would have only earned his disdain as being too muggle-like. So instead she smiled, trying to hide her nervousness as he lifted his mouth from her hand and moved in to kiss her lips next.

Of course he realized her tension immediately. "What's the matter, my dear? You seem preoccupied, and it's not with my visit, I think." 'Caught,' she thought. It was time to confess and hope he would not invoke the agreement. She cleared her throat, trying to sound off-hand. "Nothing much, Lucius. Of course I am thrilled to see you, but I need to finish a few things up first. Today has been extremely busy. How about I'll have a house-elf bring you some dinner and wine? I won't be more than a half hour."

His pale grey eyes grew cold and narrowed and she knew she would not get away with it. His hand that had not yet relinquished hers pulled her close again and he used the silver head of his cane to nudge her chin up. "So, in other words, you will be late?" he drawled. One corner of his mouth twitched briefly and she detected a spark of predatory glee in his eyes. He had been waiting for this, and he would play it for all it was worth. Oh no, tonight she would not get away with anything.

Anticipation and the knowledge of what he would want to be avenged for sent a shiver of fear up her spine. "Well, I am here, whereas you were actually delayed the last time," she tried to defend herself, realizing too late she had said the wrong thing. He smirked at her. "Oh, so you do remember! You recall what you had me do to give satisfaction for my disrespect a month ago. Well, I am pleased to hear that. Then you will know that I will have no mercy this time."

He released her with unexpected casualness. "Go finish up your work. I will be quite occupied devising an appropriate punishment for you." She felt furious at herself as she realized the flustered speed with which she scrambled back to her desk. It took her quite some time to tie her letter to the owl's foot, and while she opened the window to release the bird she thought back on the incident a month ago.

She had followed Lucius' invitation to spend a weekend at Malfoy Manor, and when she had arrived at the appointed time, he had stood her up for about an hour. A delayed meeting at the Ministry had been to blame. However, they had agreed some years back that lateness would not be tolerated and that the waiting partner could exact a fitting punishment. So gleefully she had demanded her dues: he was to please her with his hands tied behind his back, using only his mouth – twice. His eyes had killed her, but he had submitted.

As she watched the owl take off into the night, her lips curled in a reminiscent smile. He had given complete satisfaction for his disrespect, as he had described it. But she had known even then, she would get her comeuppance. Well, apparently it would be tonight. She squirmed in her seat as she absentmindedly tried to finish the rest of her chores. She was convinced she would find numerous errors and omissions in her documents tomorrow.

Seemingly mere minutes later she almost dropped her quill as she heard Lucius clear his throat. "Half an hour is up my dear," he announced. "Or do you need more time? In which case, of course, I would be even more aggrieved than I am now. And you might surmise what that means…" "Oh Hecate," she mumbled and put the griffin feather back in her ink well. It was pointless to try to do anything else.

She got up and slowly approached him. He lazily uncrossed his legs and stood up from the reading chair by the fire-place. She noticed that he had folded and laid aside his cloak and had taken his gloves off, but he was still holding his cane. He looked positively dangerous, his hooded grey eyes raking over her body, his full lips curled in a cruel smirk. "I see you have not even had the courtesy to change for me," he announced. "Hair up in a prim schoolmistress bun, wearing a terribly plain dress and still in your school robes. I am very disappointed."

He pretended to consider, although she was sure that by now he had planned his revenge down to the last detail. "I think I will punish my little schoolteacher in a most fitting manner," he purred. They were now standing mere inches from each other. Suddenly his studied nonchalance disappeared, and as he began his game in earnest the steely resolve in his orders left no room for disobedience or objections. She knew in her heart it was still nothing more than an exciting pretense they both got off on, but he always managed it with such chilling conviction.

"Undress, Eleanor, now, and don't give me that look of defiance. You don't want to anger me." He bent down to hiss in her ear. "In fact, you want to do everything to stay on my good side tonight. Don't you?" She shuddered in anticipation. "Don't you?" he demanded again. 'Oh, damn, he wants an answer,' she thought. So head games were to be part of the fun. "Yes," she squeezed out. "Yes, what?" was the growled reply. "Remember, this is about respect." She swallowed. 'Bastard!' "Yes, sir," she said, trying to keep her voice level.

"Such a good schoolteacher," he sneered. "Learning so fast, are we? Now, lose those robes." As she pulled off her school gown and loosened the fastenings of her dress Lucius walked over to the chair that held his cloak. He leaned his cane against the armrest and picked up one of his black leather gloves. Then he sat himself down in the heavy oak seat by her desk and watched with gleaming eyes as she stripped for him.

When she had arrived at her panties he stopped her with a gesture. "Enough. Come here." She tossed her bra on the pile of clothes on the floor and took slow and hesitant steps towards him. Her trepidation was half-feigned and half-real. He was absent-mindedly pulling the glove through his fingers as he watched her. She felt acutely aware that her nipples were already standing at almost painful attention courtesy of the cool spring air that permeated the old halls. Finally she stood before him.

"Very good," he assessed her coldly. "Across my lap." She took a step back in surprise. She had anticipated a lot of things, but not this. He had to be joking. He couldn't really want her across his knees like some naughty school-girl. Triple goddess!

Now he raised an eyebrow as he regarded her and for a moment she felt the spine-chilling certainty that he would normally keep this kind of glance reserved for muggles. "Do you think to argue, to disobey?" The gravelly threat in his voice was unmistakable now. "Across my lap, woman!" Any stalling would be interpreted as weakness now. And the last satisfaction she wanted to give him right then was any indication that she was actually truly scared by now.

With as much calm and dignity as she could muster she draped herself across his knees feeling the rough fabric of his pants on the skin of her chest and beneath it the long hard planes of his thigh muscles. She could see his feet and the flawless, polished glow of his boots. The surprisingly gentle touch of his dry warm hands on her back had her hum in appreciation. For a few moments he ran his palms up and down her back in gentle circles. Then the touch was replaced by something lighter, cooler, alien – his leather glove. He dragged the empty glove along her skin, caressed her until she calmed, then suddenly fisted his hands in the thin waistband of her thong and ripped the scrap of fabric off her in one fierce move. She hissed in dismay.

"Hey, these are mail-order from Reykjavik," she protested. "You know how hard it is to get decent muggle underwear…" He bent down with surprising speed, his mouth right by her ear. "Did I give you permission to speak, Eleanor?" She shut up. "Well, did I?" She sighed inwardly. "No, sir," she spat.

He sat back, surveying her. "Very good. Now, here's your punishment and your challenge. I will spank you, three strokes for every minute you've made me wait. If you wish to quit before – simply get up, and I'll know you for the little spoilt witch you are," he challenged her. "I will not be kind, but we will see what kind of endurance you possess, my dear." He paused for a moment and a strange scraping noise told her that he had pulled on the leather glove.

She clenched her teeth and a moment later his hand descended on her bare unprotected butt with quite a spectacular smack. For a moment her body took control and she gave a muffled cry of pain while her hips shifted to get her out of the path of his attack. He paused. "Ready to quit already?" His rough voice was oozing with contempt. She shook her head, willed herself to hold still. There was no way she would let him win. 'Stupid and stubborn,' she thought, and then concentrated on giving him as little reaction and with that hopefully as little satisfaction as possible as he resumed his attack on her.

She felt the rhythm of his slaps and counted along, expecting to get to about ninety. At about twenty she realized that the sharpness of the pain had become somewhat dulled. Her ass felt on fire, and his hand seemed to descend through a haze of heat. At forty her sensations shifted again as did his rhythm which seemed to lose some of its regularity. She grew more aware of his body that controlled her. His thighs tensed and released underneath her with every hit, and she was absolutely sure that the bulge that now nudged insistently into her right flank had not been there to begin with. Her pain seemed to recede and make space for something else. When she had counted to sixty, she realized belatedly what was slowly replacing the pain. Like him, she was actually getting aroused.

She clenched her fists, now furious with herself. He had her across his knees, spanking the living daylights out of her, and she had started to like it. However, there was no denying it. His gloved right hit her for the seventy-second time, and against her will she found herself moan and her derriere rise up towards him, eager now for the rising heat he stoked in her.

His breath was taking on a slightly ragged edge. The exertion began to tell on him, and she heard a short, breathless chuckle from him as he realized what effect his punishment was having on her. By the time his last slaps finally hit home, she was ready to beg to have him inside her. When his hand did not return, she craned her neck to look up at him, but Lucius was not yet done.

"Well, it seems my little schoolmistress possesses more stamina than I credited her with. But let us see how you handle the second part of your punishment. Get up!" She pushed back on his thighs and tried to get her feet beneath her. Her knees trembled with arousal and the aftermath of her ordeal. As she faced him, he got up out of the chair, stripped off the glove and fisted and released his hand with the smallest trace of a wince. His palm glowed quite red and she could only imagine what her butt had to look like.

The implacable stare of his grey eyes pierced her. "Bend over the chair," he instructed her. "Hands on the seat." She opened her mouth to protest, but he lifted a warning hand. "You will obey me," he stated with all of his Malfoy arrogance and conviction. "You will obey, because you want to. You cannot think to pretend that you are not ready for this." With complete familiarity he reached down between her legs as she stood before him, and when he pulled back his fingers, they were glistening with her juices. "You wish to deny it?" he asked. "Now, do as I say!"

She bit her lip and faced away from him, positioning herself as he had instructed. Oh, he would pay for this. Even if she had to bribe Minister Fudge himself to detain him on some future day, so she could get back at him. She heard a brief rustle of clothes behind her, realizing that he was not planning on undressing, but had merely unbuttoned his trousers. For a brief moment she felt his fingers at her opening, and then, without any other warning, he plunged inside her.

She gasped as he filled her and his hands dug into the sensitized flesh of her butt cheeks to position her hips. She could feel her heated core grip him in anticipation. She doubted that she would willingly put up with another similar ordeal to get to this point, but had to admit that this particular punishment had some very serious rewards. She felt every stroke of him shake her to her very center, and the third or fourth had her moan in shameless abandon.

It took neither of them long to reach climax. She felt his hands yank her back and onto him as he buried himself in her one last time and heard him cry out as her own orgasm crashed over her. The tension, the nervousness, the pain and the anger she had felt over the last half hour exploded in one powerfully charged moment and the energy that fuelled her release had her almost lose her footing.

For a moment they both stilled, catching their breath. He stroked his palm over her ass and she heard an amused laugh from him. "You should see my handiwork, my dear" he drawled. Then he pulled back and rebuttoned his trousers, before extending a hand to help her up. His sated pale eyes had now lost their mock sadistic glint. For a moment his hand moved up to brush some stray strands from her face, his gesture surprisingly gentle and protective.

"Why don't you take some time to get yourself tidied up and we start this evening properly," he suggested, as if nothing much had happened. "Let your hair down, lose the school clothes. I'll be quite content to wait this time." She tried and failed to glare at him, and saw the corners of his mouth twitch at her attempt. As she gathered her clothes from the floor and made her way to her bedroom, his voice stopped her. "Oh, my dear, and don't try any magic to erase the traces of my punishment. I want to see them. I want you to remember. I want this to be a valuable lesson to my schoolmistress, every time you sit down this weekend." She hissed and slammed the door behind her.

When she had left the room, Lucius bared his teeth and his brows furrowed as he slowly twisted the wrist of his right hand. He had really given it all he had and now he could feel it, but to have her squirm on his knees and see his handprints slapped all over her beautiful pale creamy ass when he had fucked her had been worth every minute of it. He walked over to the chair that held his robes and pulled out his wand to clean himself.

* * *

Later that evening she sat in the small steam bath in her quarters facing Lucius Malfoy through the billowing humid fog. Durmstrang had been built over a volcanic fault line many hundreds of years ago, and the hot springs beneath the school had supplied countless generations of wizarding scholars with the luxuries of hot water and steam.

She stretched lazily, watching Lucius lean back into the marble-tiled wall. He had his eyes closed. His white blond hair was slicked back from his high forehead and lay close against his skull like the fur of an otter. She watched as rivulets of condensation and sweat poured off his shoulders and down his chest where they trapped themselves in little droplets in his short wiry blond hair. His hands lay on his thighs, relaxed, palms open towards her. She enjoyed being able to feast her eyes on him unobserved. Even after all this time, his body still aroused her like no other could. Of course he had aged during the last six years, as had she, even though age in wizards and witches was a different matter from muggles. But she thought that like a fine brandy, he had only improved with time.

She felt little cracks down her spine as she moved, willing the soreness out of her muscles. On top of that her bottom still vividly reminded her of the abuse she had taken from him right after his arrival. Sitting would be uncomfortable for a while. Tonight Lucius had been truer to his usual form than the week before, which of course had meant, more demanding. Love-making between them had started out as something of a battle of bodies and wills and it had remained that way.

Tonight he had remained firmly in control after his punishment of her tardiness, and so she had ended up begging him for release after enduring a rather prolonged purgatory of delicious teasing from him. In consequence she now felt quite pleasantly drained with kinks and aches in muscles she had only been dimly aware before she possessed. When she exhaled with a sigh, he opened his eyes.

A cool grey glance pierced her through the steam. "I know you're looking," he drawled with the ghost of an arrogant smirk in the corners of his mouth. "And I know you like it." She wiped water from her face. "And you always so enjoy giving me things to like, my dear," she teased him back. "Imagine you can do that just by sitting there." He stirred and she watched in fascination as his muscles moved under his pale skin while he turned sideways and shifted to place his left foot on the narrow marble bench on which he sat. "If only I'd known that an hour ago. I could have saved myself so much exertion," he complained. She smiled: "As I recall you put me in a body bind, because I was making too much of an effort to please you and you wanted to hog all the action."

He flashed her an evil grin. "I so like you tied up with nowhere to go," he confessed. She shook her head and opened her mouth for a reply when suddenly an ear-drum shattering shriek pierced the room. The blond wizard opposite her almost jumped out of his skin, despite his usual self-possession. And while she was familiar with the noise, she too felt her body jerk in surprise. "Oh, gods, damn!" She was on her feet a second later and rushed to the door that closed the small steam room. The shrieking noise continued. "There's been an attack!" she shouted over the din. Lucius got up in one fluid movement and followed her. In the anteroom she grabbed him and upended a bucket of cold water that was suspended by a chain under the ceiling over both of them.

Ignoring her lover's protests over her treatment she threw him a towel, grabbed one herself, dashed back into her bedroom and pulled a large black school robe over her head. Lucius jumped back into his pants and threw a shirt over his shoulders. While she hunted for her wand he tried to close the buttons, but the fabric stuck to his water slicked skin and he gave up on it as she looked back at him once more before leaving her chambers. "Come on!" she called out to him and he grabbed his cane and followed her, cursing under his breath as his bare feet hit the icy cold stone slabs of the corridor.

"What's this racket?" he asked jogging beside her how. "Means someone has cast an unforgivable. It's an alarm. I bet the Karkaroffs have made their move." A few moments later they stopped by an open door that cast a bar of golden light into the corridor. A terrible wail of anguish and pain came from the room behind it that even drowned out the alarm. There seemed to be some commotion further down the hall, but Eleanor chose to investigate the room first.


	4. Demon's Riddle

**Demon's Riddle**

_"In order to practice adequate magical defense, you have to first think of yourself as absolutely worthy of protection." (Frater V.D.: The School of High Magick)_

As she entered, her worst fears were realized. Irina Karkaroff had thrown herself over the prostrate body of her fiancé. Her white nightdress was drenched in blood and she screamed as she shook the lifeless form in her arms. Next to her on the floor Professor Fritz Hauer, the quiddich coach, crawled on his hands and knees, retching and moaning miserably and obviously trying to recover from a _cruciatus_. She decided that Hauer could take care of himself for now and rushed over to her students. A quick spell showed her that Lars was dead. She tried to move Irina off him and discovered to her horror that the blood on the girl's gown did not come from the dead boy, who seemed outwardly unhurt and had most likely died from a killing spell.

The attacker had obviously managed to murder the unborn child, and the forced abortion was causing Irina to bleed profusely. She pulled the girl up and called over to Lucius. "Floo to the infirmary with her, will you? She's miscarrying. She'll bleed to death without help." The young witch started to fight her. She realized that she was going to be separated from Lars and struggled to get back to him, but Lucius would have none of it. He threw his lover an exasperated look, then roughly pulled the young Karkaroff to him and marched her over to the fireplace. "Hold still!" he hissed at her as he grabbed a fistful of floo powder and disappeared in an explosion of green flame.

Eleanor sighed, she might get help from him, but rarely any sympathy with the victims. The alarm started to fade. She turned to the quiddich professor who had been assigned first watch on the couple. He was now kneeling, sitting back on his heels and dry-heaving and wiping spit and blood from his mouth with the sleeve of his robes. "What's happened?" she addressed him in German. He looked up at her, his blue eyes bloodshot, and tried to speak. After a few attempts he got his croaking voice under control and she crouched next to him as she listened.

"It was Karkaroff, the old headmaster, the Death Eater. He must have apparated right into the room. I only realized he was there when he killed Lars." Professor Hauer coughed and shuddered, but continued. "He must have used an unforgivable, because it triggered the alarm. When I rushed in, he was already attacking Irina. I didn't know what to do. So to stop him I used the _avada kedavra_ curse on him. It, it…" The quiddich coach faltered.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Look, I think you did the right thing. You were under attack by a murderer. Don't worry about it." Then it struck her, there was no dead body. "If you used a killing curse on Karkaroff, where is he?" The man before her rubbed his eyes, then looked at her. "That's what I don't understand. I hit him full force. His whole body was enveloped in green fire, and he just stood there. It was as if it passed right through him. Had absolutely no effect. Then he lifted his wand and put me under the _cruciatus_ before finishing with his curses on Irina."

The witch considered. Fritz Hauer of the House of Earth had once been captain of the German national quiddich team for six years running. He was the best coach the school had ever hand, and he had young talents like Victor Krum to prove it. While he was not a particularly skilled wizard in other areas, the man could be expected to cast a decent killing curse and to recognize if it hit and whether it was effective. What on earth had happened?

She had just thought of another question when several people entered the room. The prefect and Professor Stolcius dragged behind them the body of a dark-haired man in black robes, and right behind them walked the headmistress and the professor of astrology, head of the House of Air. At the same time the fireplace flared green and Lucius Malfoy stepped elegantly over the grate with his wand pulled from his cane as he leisurely cleaned himself of blood and soot.

Stolcius and the prefect dropped the body and the headmistress turned to the blond wizard. "Who is he?" she demanded. Eleanor got up, patting Hauer on the back. "This is Mr. Lucius Malfoy from Wiltshire, England. He is my visitor over the weekend. Lucius, this is Professor Inga Magnusdottir, headmistress of Durmstrang Institute."

The middle-aged headmistress stepped up to them, tossed back her long honey-blonde hair and shook Lucius' hand. Eleanor could have sworn that the witch was using her considerable transformation skills, as her face smoothed itself in a smile, her waist narrowed and her bust under her robes lifted quite perceptibly. She immediately began to engage the rather bemused looking wizard in an animated conversation taking absolutely no further interest in the situation surrounding her.

Eleanor turned away with a brief snort and walked towards the alchemy professor. Of course, dragging Lucius along clad in nothing but his pants and a half-open shirt and introducing him to the female denizens of Durmstrang could be compared to nailing a sprig of catnip to one's window and then complaining about the lovesick yowling and screeching that would follow all night long.

Stolcius and the prefect looked shaken, and as she bent to the lifeless bundle in black robes she recognized the pale sharp features of her former headmaster. A quick spell convinced her that Igor Karkaroff was quite dead. She raised an eyebrow at her colleague and saw the professor of astrology join them. "What happened?" The alchemist, who wore nothing but a long, rather grotesque nightshirt with a loud dragon print all over shook his head as if he wanted to dislodge some nagging doubt.

"I heard the alarm and ran out to investigate. In the quadrangle I saw Piotr confronting Karkaroff. Karkaroff was getting ready to curse him, so I hurled a killing curse at him. After that I'm not sure what happened. He kind of just stood there, this horrible fixed grin on his face. Piotr had thrown himself on the ground to avoid Karkaroff's attack, but was getting up again. The Death Eater was gathering for another spell, and the prefect and I both cursed him, one after the other. At my second _avada_ he finally went down."

Stolcius blinked and turned to the student who nodded to corroborate his story. "It was so weird, professor. It was as if the first spells went right through him." Now the astrology professor spread out her hands. "That's impossible," she asserted. "No one survives a killing curse. There is no defense against the unforgivables. Everyone knows that. You must have missed the first time." Stolcius bristled at that, but Eleanor interrupted him. "Weird as it may sound, I have just heard the very same thing from Fritz here. He witnessed the same phenomenon when he tried to attack Karkaroff. We will need to investigate this further. But first things first."

She turned to the astronomy professor. "Isadora, would you be so kind and help Fritz to the infirmary. He could really do with some potion to get over the _cruciatus_ Karkaroff hit him with." The teacher nodded and gathered her robes to crouch next to the quiddich coach. Soon she had him on his feet and they stepped into the fireplace to floo off.

Eleanor looked around her. Stolcius was kneeling on the floor to examine their dead attacker for any clues about his strange reaction to the killing curse. Piotr had sat himself down and looked as if he was about to be sick. The headmistress was just in the process of throwing back her head and laughing outrageously at some remark Lucius had made. Eleanor shook her head. "Piotr, I'll be with you in a minute," she told her student. "Ask a house elf to bring you a small fire whisky. I think this situation allows an exception to the usual underage drinking rules."

Then she stepped up to the blond wizard. "Inga," she interrupted and gulped in surprise. The matronly headmistress had grown about ten to fifteen years younger in the interim, and while Eleanor was suitably impressed with the magical prowess this act entailed, she also felt that her superior was neglecting her duties. Professor Magnusdottir slowly peeled her eyes off the man before her and focused on the interruption.

"Inga, we need some aurors here, there have been three killings and they need to be reported to the authorities." The headmistress lifted an eyebrow. "Three killings?" "Yes, Lars here, Irina's unborn child and Karkaroff himself. I think as head of the school you should contact the Ministry office in Reykjavik and have them dispatch an investigation. I'll handle it of course, if you think you are too occupied at the moment." The older witch now glared at her, having understood the insinuation and haughtily swept around. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of it. Thank you," she said. She looked around. "Brief me," she demanded.

Eleanor summed up what she had found out so far, and the headmistress took her leave, shaking Lucius' hand with more intensity than was strictly necessary and expressing her hope to see him again. Then she left the room. Eleanor caught sight of the house elf that was taking the prefect's order and asked for two additional glasses of fire whisky while they waited for the aurors.

Lucius had pulled up two chairs, turned his and straddled it so he could rest his elbows on the back. He gave her a quizzical glance, but she decided not to discuss the headmistress before the ears of the prefect. Gingerly she sat down watching him smirk at her discomfort. "How's Irina?" she asked him. He bent sideways to take the whisky from the house elf. "Oh fine," he shrugged. "She'll live. Terrible mess, though. How can anyone set themselves up voluntarily for something like this?"

Eleanor swallowed down her outrage. "Look, she wasn't asking for it. I'm sorry I stuck you with a bleeding woman, but I thought you could handle it." Lucius shot her a sharp glance. "I'm not referring to the fact that she was miscarrying. I am quite familiar with and capable of handling that."

She stared at him, wondering for a moment whether she even wanted to know how he had become familiar with something like that, but he took a deep draught of the whisky and offered an explanation of his own. "Narcissa lost two children before Draco. Ugly, messy, but part of the female condition, I guess. You know what they teach about women at the magical college in Jaipur?"

She took a sip of whisky herself and saw Piotr stare at them in shocked disbelief. "No," she said. "What do they teach?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, if you mess up as a man in your former life, your bad karma causes you to be reincarnated as a woman." She choked on her drink in outrage. "Lucius, of all the hateful, chauvinistic things…" He pursed his lips at her, and she realized belatedly that he had merely been yanking her chain. She glared at him, but he just lazily stretched his legs.

"So what happens if you mess up as a woman? You come back as a worm?" she challenged him. He smirked. "Why, that would imply that wizards are superior to witches, somehow, my dear. And that cannot be the case, can it now? Of course you get reincarnated as a man."

The prefect laughed nervously and Eleanor almost snorted out some of her fire whisky. "Oh great, so here we are, one failed man and two failed women," she pronounced and held up her drink. "Cheers all around." A few minutes later Daniel Stolcius joined them, shaking his head. "Nothing wrong with him, no talismans, no protection spell residue. Nothing that would explain why he was impervious. He's just plain dead when he should be dead several times over. Can't figure it out." He also ordered a fire whisky and a few minutes later they looked up as they heard the familiar noises of apparitions and five aurors and the headmistress stepped forward to meet them.

* * *

The investigation did not take very long, and when the ministry officials had finished questioning the group they removed the corpses and disapparated. The headmistress and the alchemy professor also took off and Eleanor and Lucius walked the prefect back to his room. Finally they made their way back to her own quarters. Eleanor was uncharacteristically quiet, and when they finally closed the door of her study behind them, Lucius turned to her. "Inga got under your skin, didn't she?" he asked casually.

She placed her wand on her desk. "Hm? You were saying?" she said absent-mindedly. He sighed. "The headmistress howling at the moon, it got to you." She faced him. "Not really," she said. "I know she has a weakness for tall, blond and handsome. It was to be expected. I have to say, though, she is better at transformation than I've been giving her credit for. Actually she seemed quite shaggable, even to me, at the end of your little conversation."

Lucius wriggled his eyebrows. "Are you propositioning me for a threesome?" he leered. She shook her head, then decided to play along. "If she takes another five years off and lightens her hair to your shade, I could be tempted. Being stuck in a blond sandwich might be quite delicious… But be warned when you ask her, she is very possessive and does not like to share. We still have a crumple-horned snorkack in our bestiary who used to be a lover of hers." The blond wizard swallowed. "Really?"

Eleanor tried to keep a straight face, turned away from him and walked over to her bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines of some of her older grimoires. Lucius stepped up behind her. "So what's bothering you? That I didn't dissolve in tears over that little Karkaroff slut? How would I, over someone who deliberately bears a mudblood and disgraces their family?" She swiveled back to confront him. "Closer to the mark, Lucius, but then again, I know very well you'd rather wipe a muggle off your shoe than give them the time of day. So let's not talk about it. We'd just fight, all right?"

She pulled an old folio out from among her library and walked over to her desk. "No, I have not been able to get Karkaroff's strange ability out of my mind," she finally explained. "As the astronomy professor put it earlier, no one survives a killing curse. So why did he? I need to know. It's the ultimate defense against the dark arts." She almost ignored her companion as she started leafing through the book. He shifted to peer over her shoulder. "So, how will you find out?" he asked, his curiosity aroused.

Eleanor focused back on him, deliberating. Finally she made up her mind. "Do you want to know? Do you want to help me?" He nodded. "Well I have been working with demon magic for a while, so I intend to call up Taphthartharath, the demon of Mercury, and ask him," she announced. Lucius took a surprised step back. "You are going to do a demon invocation at school?" She smiled inwardly. She rarely got to shock a dark wizard and Death Eater. "Lucius, credit to you as an ex school governor, but the by-laws at Durmstrang are very different from those at Hogwarts, which is what makes this place so exciting and dangerous. You don't have to channel Dumbledore for me."

Lucius Malfoy glared at her. "No need to become insulting," he growled. "Of course I'll help you." She gave him a quick grin. Naturally there would be no mischief he would ever turn down. "Great," she told him. "Here, I need you to copy two of the following sigils out of this grimoire onto these two pieces of parchment. Then you could do the circle, and load up the incense burner with this Mercury mix." She passed him a pouch she had pulled from a desk drawer.

He took the incense from her and sniffed it. "Disgusting," he commented. "What are you going to do?" She took a moment to deliberate. "Prepare an item suitable for barter. We'll need to give Taphthartharath something valuable for his information." Lucius pulled up her chair and began to work on the sigils while she bent to a low table by her desk and lifted a cloth from her PC, hooking the device up to a magically powered battery pack. The computer started with a beep and a soft hum and the wizard lifted his head. "What in the name of Azrael is that thing?" he demanded.

She shrugged, knowing he wouldn't like the answer. "Muggle device for storing and manipulating information," she volunteered. He sneered. "Sometimes I wonder," he said. "Knowing about the unflattering nature of witch underwear, I can tolerate your preference for muggle panties, but you love their hideous artifacts just a bit too much for my liking." Still she saw that he stole surreptitious glances at the soft illumination of the screen as she worked. A few minutes later she had stored her work, removed a floppy disk and powered down the machine. Lucius had meanwhile finished the invocation circle in white chalk and now returned to the desk to prepare the burner with some ignited coal.

A few minutes later they both stood at the center of the circle, the incense rising in thick, oily clouds outside of the chalk markings. Eleanor held the grimoire open between them, and they pointed their wands at the smoke in unison incanting the spells that would raise the demon. At the third repetition the smoke seemed to swirl, then solidify, and soon had taken on the form of a young man with silvery skin and a beautiful fair face.

Eleanor addressed him, showing him the sigils that Lucius had drawn and that they had each pinned to their robes over their hearts for protection. "Great Taphthartharath, we are pleased that you followed our summons, and we need to employ your knowledge and wisdom to answer a question." The demon gave a most unearthly and inhuman smile and suddenly rushed at the circle, but was repelled by the barrier of Lucius' chalk marks. Eleanor had expected it and held her ground, though she felt every hair on her body raise in crawling terror.

"Taphthartharath, I hold your presence in this sigil. Attack us again and I will destroy it," she threatened. The spirit snarled at her, but returned to his station. "If you try to harm us, you will be punished. If you help us, you will be rewarded," she held up the disk. The demon spoke and his voice sounded like a great rush of wind, chilling and remote. "What is this, that you offer, mistress?"

She took a step forward, carefully making sure she did not place anything of herself outside the barrier. "This is an artifact of the magic of muggles. It contains stored in it all of the permutations of the names of your three greatest rivals in the kingdom of demons. It is a talisman of power that you can use to subdue your enemies. Would that be worth something to you?"

The demon's eyes glowed in greed. "What do you wish to know, mistress?" he asked. "Have you ever heard of a wizard or witch who survived the incantation of _avada kedavra_? And if so, how might it be done? If you can tell me that, you will receive the disk." The demon swayed, then focused on her, his lips drawing back from sharp silvery teeth in a sneer. "So many centuries, and few ever asked. Taphthartharath knows this very well. You give me muggle magic for my services, I give you muggle magic back, mistress. Here is the solution to your question, listen well: if someone curses you with the killing spell and you are not there, will you still die?"

The demon shape flickered, seemed to dissolve in smoke for a moment, then Taphthartharath rematerialized right outside the barrier, his voice a whisper. "Now give me my promised reward, mistress." Eleanor exchanged a quick glance with her partner. The answer had been cryptic at best, unsatisfactory at worst. Lucius shrugged his shoulders. Both knew well enough from previous experiences that one could push a demon only so far.

Eleanor gripped a corner of the disk and held it into the barrier until the spirit could grasp it. The silvery figure stepped back. "Taphthartharath is much obliged. It is always a pleasure to do business with a devotee of Mercury." Then he started to laugh and turn. They heard his voice one more time in a hissed whisper as he stepped back into the smoke. "Barter and lies, riddles and tricks." Immediately they turned their faces back to the grimoire and began the incantations for banishing.

When they felt it was safe, they stepped outside of the circle, only to both explode in a fit of coughing. The incense stank horribly and the smoke was almost choking them. Lucius gritted out a spell to purify the air, and Eleanor burned the parchment with the sigils. Finally they sat down by the fireplace, wiping acrid tears from their faces. Eleanor felt drained as she called on a house elf to bring them something to drink. Demon invocation wasn't exactly fun and games. Lucius asked for some water and some whisky and she decided to join him.

She took a thoughtful sip from the heavy cut glass tumbler and swirled the burning liquid round her mouth. "If someone curses you with the killing spell and you are not there, will you still die?" she repeated the words of the demon. Lucius crossed his legs and threw back his head to drain his cup of water. "What kind of an answer is that," he complained. "Of course you don't die. You are not there. Stupid!" Eleanor took another sip. "But Karkaroff was there. Fritz saw him, Piotr saw him and Daniel saw him. The spells hit him at point blank. So if he was there, they should have killed him. We are back to square one."

The blond wizard reached over for his whisky. "That's what you get for using 'muggle magic,'" he sneered. "Utter and contemptible crap." Something stuck in Eleanor's mind. "You give me muggle magic for my service, I give you muggle magic back," she said softly. A spirit of Mercury would never use language frivolously. Oh yes, tricks and lies were their domain, but a deal was a deal, a barter a barter. "Muggle magic..." Suddenly she moved forward and placed a kiss squarely on Lucius' mouth. "You are a genius," she exclaimed.

He stared at her. "What did I do?" he asked. "Muggle magic," she cried excitedly. "Muggles actually do perform magic, they call it illusionism, and it is based on misdirection." "Misdirection, as in giving someone false instructions on how to apparate somewhere?" Lucius asked. She smiled "Something like that. You direct someone's attention to a scenario, and while their focus is on that, you can do all sorts of other things to them, without them really noticing. For example show them a card trick with your left and pick their pocket with your right hand."

Lucius shook his head. "Why would you want to do that?" "Well, if you have no true magical abilities, that's the best chance you have to get at someone's wallet without clubbing them," she explained. "Of course if you are a wizard, you can just hex their purse out of their pocket, no misdirection required."

"Karkaroff, the sneaky bastard must have done something like this," she said getting up and reaching for her wand. Lucius watched her as she concentrated and first murmured an apparition spell that took her from the fireplace to the door and then an _imago_ spell that put a projected image of her in her old place. She then resolved the _imago_ and reapparated in her old place. "Of course he was much, much smoother and faster than I am."

She sat down again. "Should just be a question of practice. Bloody brilliant," she admitted grudgingly. "There we have spent centuries devising impossible countermagic for the unforgivables, when we could have literally sidestepped the issue all along. And all it took was a demon and some muggle-thinking."

Lucius gave her a searching look. "If you were instantaneous on both counts, you'd get away with it," he admitted slowly. "The person casting the curse would be preoccupied with hexing you, they would not notice that you stood a little bit off to the side watching the substituted _imago_ getting hit. Then, when the curse had run its course, you'd be back. But why did Karkaroff die when he got hit by two spells?"

Eleanor thought about that. "Perhaps he returned too quickly. He may have sidestepped the first _avada_, but when he reapparated, the second one was still potent." Suddenly a sickening thought struck her. "Will you share this knowledge with Voldemort and the other Death Eaters?"

The blond wizard stared at her. "Why? Karkaroff never let on, as far as I know, even though he was a Death Eater for some time. Why in the blazes would I give up important leverage like this to someone who recently threatened to _crucio_ me? Think me ruthless all you want, but don't take me for stupid, will you?" He seemed genuinely insulted by her suggestion, and she decided to believe him. Nothing was more reliable than the old self-interest of a Slytherin, after all.

She drank down the last of her whisky and cast a glace over to the enchanted hourglass on the mantelpiece. It was already way into the early hours of the morning. She sighed, thinking suddenly about the pale, lifeless form of Irina's fiancé on the floor of their student bedroom. "How about we call it a night?" she asked him. "I'm spanked, fucked, steamed and generally hexed out. Plus I have lost a student tonight, and I haven't even begun to start to think about that. There'll be a lot to take care of tomorrow."


	5. In the Employ of the Malfoys

**In the Employ of the Malfoys **

_"Virtue in the middle, said the Devil, when seated between two lawyers." (Proverb)_

Lucius Malfoy sat at the large desk in his study facing his family advocatus Marcellus Tethering across several piles of parchments. A bright spring sun shone through the high gothic windows of the vaulted room and painted golden lancet patterns on the rich oak wood and the papers strewn across the table top. However the blond wizard looked rather grim.

The old lawyer frowned as he studied the piece of vellum that his client had just handed to him. Lucius waited for the man to finish reading and absent-mindedly brushed a piece of lint from his black velvet robes. The house-elves were obviously getting sloppy these days, he thought. He had to make an example of one of them, before the whole lot became really undisciplined.

Finally his guest looked up. "Mr. Malfoy, you are sure you want to do this? I can of course arrange it without any trouble in about – um, two days, shall we say? I have my contacts at Gringotts, as you undoubtedly know."

Lucius leant forward. "Look Tethering, you've been a loyal and capable servant of our family since the time of my father. You were instrumental in getting me off the hook last time the Ministry had me on charges of conspiracy with the Dark Lord. And as you seem to disapprove of the way I am ordering my affairs at this point, I will tell you this: things are going to come to a head any of these days. We are poised at the edge of a precipice, ready to conquer or to fall.

When we have made our move, I will be either in a position to truly show you how the Malfoys have always appreciated your help or be committed to Azkaban yet again, if not actually dead. At that point, the fate of my fortune will be uncertain at best. Should anything happen to me, follow your instructions to the letter. Contact her, and give her access to the possessions I have listed here." He indicated the parchment Tethering was holding.

"You know as well as I do that they constitute a very minute part of my fortune, but she will appreciate them in a way that no one else could. For all other portions of the Malfoy fortune, I want you to do everything in your power to preserve them either for me, should I be rehabilitated, or for my son. The Blacks will try to get their slimy claws on them, as Draco is still under age. This is not to happen – under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

The advocatus nodded and stroked his pointed grey beard for a minute while he considered. Then he folded up the document and hid it in his wide robes. "Of course I will act on your instructions, sir. Just one more question, Mr. Malfoy, if you do not think me too impertinent for asking. If things develop against you, how trustworthy is she? Would she be of help to us?"

Lucius sat up straight and laid his hands on his desk. "Tethering, you can trust her completely. You can also ask her help in anything concerning me and she will give the matter her full attention, with one exception: she will never aid the cause." He gave Tethering a searching glance that held a trace of impatience now. "Any other questions?" The older man shook his head. "None, sir. Everything shall be arranged as you wish. Let us hope I will never need to get in touch with her, sir." The blond wizard released the advocatus with a wave of his hand. "Yes, Tethering, let us hope," he said.

Lucius stared into the distance for a moment, where the gaunt shape of his lawyer had just disapparated, then got up with a sigh to make his way to the library. As he walked down the heavily carpeted hallway, he thought he heard voices from the main entrance hall, among them Narcissa's, and decided to investigate. As he descended the broad curved marble staircase he saw her in animated conversation with two burgundy-robed, distinguished looking wizards. She wore a stunning sea-green silk gown that he had not seen on her before, and that he estimated had cost at least around five-hundred galleons.

For a moment he compressed his lips. His wife was so wonderfully predictable. For example, she could always be trusted to spend Malfoy money with both hands. Quietly he approached, listening to the exchange. The visiting wizards both spoke with a very strong French accent, and Narcissa seemed to give them rather particular instructions regarding food. This should be interesting.

"My dear," he drawled to announce himself, and had the satisfaction to see her whirl around with a rather shocked expression on her pale porcelain features. Obviously she had not expected him to be at the manor. She cast a short, panicked glance at her companions, one he almost, but not quite missed, and then had herself perfectly under control again as she addressed him. "Lucius, darling, I am surprised to see you. I thought you had business elsewhere, Durmstrang perhaps?"

He smirked at the tiny barb as she dared to refer to his affair with Eleanor in public, then stepped up to her and lightly kissed her cheek. He felt her resistance as she wished but did not dare to pull away from him. She would do anything to avoid a scene before witnesses. "But you know dear, I would always rush back to your side as soon as I am able. So, will you introduce your visitors to me?" Narcissa cleared her throat. "These gentlemen work for the Luculle gourmet service in Lyon. They are helping me plan a little intimate dinner party for some of my dearest friends next Saturday."

Lucius arranged his features in a beatific smile, while inwardly he was seething. Luculle's was the most expensive caterer in the known wizarding world. If she was hell-bent on bankrupting him, he would try his damndest to get some mileage out of the situation. "How wonderful for you, my darling. What a clever plan. Just make sure, you invite Mrs. Fudge. You know how important her husband is."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed dangerously. "But my dearest Lucius, you know she is sooo boring," she whined. He broadened his smile, lifted her hand, took it in his in a seeming gesture of affection and squeezed until he saw her wince ever so slightly. "For me, my dear," he coaxed her, grey eyes perfectly glacial. "I will ask the Minister on Monday how she liked it. I am sure she will have been thrilled. You are such an incredible hostess."

The two Frenchmen smiled at this all-round display of bonhomie, and as Lucius regarded them in contempt at their gullibility, he saw one of them look up at the staircase. The blond wizard caught the tiniest shake of her head from his wife and turned only to see yet another visitor. A tall, well-built man in his late twenties bounced down the stairs. "There you are, dear," he called as he saw Narcissa. Half-hidden behind the broad pasty shape and baggy robes of one of the Luculle employees Lucius kept watching, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement.

The younger wizard reminded Lucius of a large, over-eager dog. He had an open, trusting face, shoulder-long brown hair and hazel eyes and moved with the slightly clumsy expansiveness that usually comes form optimistic innocence. Not a bad sort, and probably quite inexhaustible, if a bit unadventurous in bed, Lucius thought. The lord of the manor could imagine him rearing up, placing his front paws on Narcissa's shoulders and happily licking her face like a huge Irish setter. He knew his wife's taste in men very well by now. She usually went for young, insecure, virile and handsome. This was getting better and better.

Lucius stepped out from behind the two catering wizards, so that the newcomer could finally recognize him and had the satisfaction to notice that the man almost petrified on the lowest step of the staircase. "More guests, my precious," he addressed Narcissa. "My, you are full of surprises this morning." He lifted his head towards the newcomer. "Young man," he called to him. "May I have the pleasure of your acquaintance?" He relished watching the transformation from bounding puppy to whipped dog, as the wizard reluctantly approached.

Narcissa looked as if she had just swallowed a flubberworm, but he had to give her credit for keeping it together quite well, and he felt a brief spark of pride. Of course, she was no sniveling mudblood, so good control over her demeanor was to be expected. "Lucius, this is Ambrosius Greenleaf, my – lawyer. Ambrosius, this is my husband Lucius Malfoy," she announced curtly. "The gentlemen here are with the Luculle gourmet service." The younger wizard cast Narcissa a panicked glance and shuffled his feet as Lucius addressed him.

"Yes, you must be the youngest partner of Todd, Warren, Warren & Greenleaf in Diagon Alley. Very pleased to make your acquaintance. How long have you served my wife – in your capacity as advocatus?" The blond wizard watched his victim blush furiously. "Err, umm, for about three months," he confessed. "Three months, well, Narcissa, I hope we do not have any serious legal difficulties that I or the family advocatus should know about," Lucius asked his wife. She drew herself up and made a slight step to the side as if to protect the young man. "Hardly, my dear, they are small arrangements regarding the Black fortune."

'There's an oxymoron,' thought Lucius, picturing the run-down London town house at Grimmauld Place and the old decrepit rambling manor the Black family owned in Norfolk. "That's reassuring, my darling. Well," he turned back to the large hazel eyes that fixed on him as if he was a snake charming a rabbit.

"My dear advocatus Greenleaf, I am sure you will find my wife most gracious, she seldom denies her dearest guests anything, as you must surely know by now. Avail yourself of her favor while you can. And make sure not to wander the halls alone. Sadly, the manor holds many bad memories, and should you encounter some of its inhabitants on your own, why, I could not be held responsible for the consequences. However, let me assure you, they would be most dire, and quite regrettable in one so young and full of promise as yourself." He flashed his wife's lover a predatory grin, leaving no doubt which inhabitants he was referring to.

He faced his wife again. "Anyway, darling, must rush. So amuse yourself as best you can." He leaned in on her. "You are such a clever little minx, combining useful with handsome this time," he whispered, then kissed her again. He waved at the other men. "Messieurs, advocatus. I wish you a marvelous day." As he strode up the stairs he had the satisfaction to hear the one of the French wizards say to the other, "Quel mari agréeable, n'est pas?" He smirked and turned at the top of the stairs to walk back towards the library, robes billowing behind him.

As soon as he was out of sight of the visitors he clapped his hands. Immediately a house elf tumbled out of the wood paneling and prostrated himself. With a practiced move Lucius shoved the toe of his slipper underneath the belly of the creature and kicked it in a high arc before him, never slowing his pace. "It is time," he hissed, "we talked about the care of my robes, Nibbs. In the library, now! And bring your miserable little fellows along."

A little while later Lucius leant lazily against a tall bookshelf by one of the high, arched windows, wiping blood off the pale skin of his elegantly manicured hands with his silk handkerchief. He let is grey eyes travel over the carefully tended gardens of Malfoy Manor and watched the sun glint on the precisely clipped lawns. Springtime had finally arrived over the last few days. The bare hedges were covered in bursting purple buds and on the trees a faint green haze bore the promise of leaves. He allowed himself a small, genuine smile. After a long, miserable winter his affairs seemed to finally take a turn for the better.

The Dark Lord had changed his strategy and had decided to attack Potter not by using the boy's curiosity, which seemed non-existent at best, but through his ridiculous Gryffindor sense of heroism. And he, Lucius Malfoy had been instrumental in the change of plan by pointing out that the boy who lived had struck up a close relationship with Sirius Black.

He had told his master about the black dog that had accompanied Potter to the train station after Christmas and whom he had quickly identified as the proscribed animagus. And over the last few days Voldemort had finally come to his senses and had decided to lure Potter to the Ministry by suggesting to him that the Death Eaters held Narcissa's cousin captive. Of course the megalomaniac little brat would not be able to resist the bait and rush to the rescue.

Any day, any hour now, they would be called to arms and take in Potter and the damn prophecy in one fell swoop. Lucius tossed the bloodied handkerchief on the floor and after a last glance at the garden turned from the window. As he walked back between the shelves a familiar burning sensation on his arm alerted him. And for once he truly welcomed the pain as he prepared to apparate in the presence of his master. The time was ripe to reap their rewards.


	6. The Department of Mysteries

**The Department of Mysteries**

_"Les merchants sont toujours surpris de trouver de l'habilete dans les bons. - The wicked are always surprised to find ability in the good." (Luc de Clapier de Vauvanargues: Refexions CIII)_

Lucius Malfoy stood quietly at the ready in the musty cramped space behind the deserted Ludicrous Patents Office on level seven of the Ministry while around him dark-robed figures whispered nervously and excitedly. He appeared self-possessed, aloof and cool, as befitted the chief Death Eater, and his mask helped further to hide his emotions from his associates. However, he had to admit to himself that the prospect of battle, the knowledge of being so close to their goals stirred his blood. Victory was in their grasp and he could almost taste it.

Some time soon he would hand over the prophecy and the boy who lived to his master. The secret of how Voldemort could vanquish Potter would be revealed and the last best hope of the Order of the Phoenix would be dashed. He would be rewarded, and all of the Death Eaters would soon witness the demise of the muggle scum that had infected the wizarding world for centuries.

Suddenly he felt the mark on his arm ignite in a brief flash of pain, and as the voices surrounding him fell silent, he knew that Voldemort was signaling them: Harry Potter had finally been lured into the Department of Mysteries. Everything was prepared, the pieces were in position. He faced his fellow conspirators. "This is the moment we have been waiting for. Our master's destiny will be fulfilled, and our loyalty will be rewarded," he told them.

He really hated pep-speeches, but somehow felt that the significance of the occasion merited a few words. He also wanted to make sure that everyone understood their orders. His sister-in-law, whose gaunt form stood to his right, would prove difficult to control, as would McNair. Both of them could be counted on to choose a bit of senseless torture and mayhem over any cool-headed battle-plan.

"Remember," he reminded them. "Our first priority is to secure the prophecy sphere unharmed. Our second is to capture Harry Potter for the Dark Lord alive – curse only to disable. Our third is to exterminate as many Order members, as we can manage. So if you see anyone with Potter, curse to kill. Ready? This is it, apparate now!"

To his surprise Lucius found himself facing only a small group of children, Potter in their midst. He blinked and rapidly scanned his surroundings. Where were the grown-up members of the Order? Hiding somewhere? Then he realized that Potter must have come on his own initiative, without alerting anyone. Perfect! Some of the children looked vaguely familiar. He recognized two of the numerous Weaslys, the fat, dumb-looking boy off to the side had to be a Longbottom, and next to Potter stood that little snotty mudblood know-it-all, Granger.

At a rapid wave of his hand his troops fanned out and surrounded the Hogwarts students, pointing their wands in menace. The children looked suitably shocked and impressed. He smirked when he saw that Arthur's youngest seemed actually ready to pass out. This should be easier than he had anticipated. "To me, Potter," he commanded and held out his hand. Potter blanched, but seemed rooted to the spot. "To me," Lucius repeated.

"Where's Sirius?" Potter asked. The chief Death Eater felt a grim smile curve his lips. So the legilimency had finally worked. It wasn't curiosity that killed the cat, but Potter's ridiculous sense of Gryffindor loyalty. Several of the Slytherin Death Eaters laughed and Bellatrix voiced their sense of triumph: "The Dark Lord always knows!"

Lucius felt himself nod. "Always," he echoed his sister-in-law. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter." However, the young wizard proved more stubborn than he had thought. "I want to know where Sirius is!" Lucius felt Bellatrix shift at his side impatiently. "I want to know where Sirius is!" she mimicked Potter. The whole group started to close in on the children in menace: time to end this as quickly as possible.

"You've got him," Potter insisted stubbornly. "He's here. I know he is." "The little baby woke up frightened and thought what it dreamed was true," said Bellatrix in a horrible, high baby-voice. It seemed that Narcissa's sister was beginning to enjoy herself. The young wizard murmured something to the Weasly boy standing next to him while Bellatrix exploded in raucous laughter. Lucius realized he had to start watching her. "You hear him? _You hear him_? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!" she crowed.

He leaned in to her. "Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," he said softly. "He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter." "I know Sirius is here," the boy insisted again. "I know you've got him!" This time most of the Death Eaters joined in Bellatrix's mirth.

Lucius felt his patience slip. "It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," he said. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands." Against better judgment the young wizard decided to accept his challenge. "Go on, then," he said, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the five wands of his companions rose on either side of him.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one needs get hurt," Lucius insisted again. This was getting tiresome. Now Potter dared to openly laugh at him. "Yeah, right!" he said. "I give you this prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?" The words were hardly out of his mouth when Lucius felt the woman by his side stir. She raised her wand and shrieked: "Accio proph-" But Potter was ready with a counter spell. "Protego!" he shouted before she was done, and though the glass sphere slipped to the tips of the boy's fingers he managed to cling on to it.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," Bellatrix mocked, moving closer and menacing the young wizard. "Very well, then…" Holy Hecate, Lucius thought, the stupid Black bitch would ruin everything. "I told you, no!" he roared at her. "If you smash it!" But she did not heed him, stepping forward and pulling off her mask. A sidewise glance showed Lucius that her face was flushed with mad, sadistic excitement.

"You need more persuasion?" she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Very well - take the smallest one" she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. "Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."

The children shifted to surround the Weasly girl and Potter stepped in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest. "You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," he told Bellatrix. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"

She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth. "So," said the boy, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?" "What kind of prophecy?" repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," said the young wizard, his eyes flicking from one Death Eater to another like a frightened, cornered animal's. "How come Voldemort wants it?" Lucius felt his associates cringe and hiss at the open mentioning of their master's name." You dare speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix.

"Yeah," Potter admitted with forced insolence. "Yeah, I've got no problem with saying Vol-"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare…" Now Potter was going for broke. "Did you know he's a half-blood too?" he challenged the witch. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a muggle - or has he been telling you lot he's pure-blood?"

Lucius groaned inwardly. This would not end well. And really, his volatile sister-in-law was raising her wand. "Stupef-" He stepped forward to intervene. "No!" A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix's wand, but he managed to deflect it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of the boy and several of the glass orbs there shattered.

Through the babble and mayhem of the freed prophecies he grabbed her by the robes and yelled at her in frustration. "I will kill you myself, you stupid bitch. What have I told you? Do not attack! We need the prophecy!" "He dared - he dares…" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently, "he stands there - filthy half-blood –" He shook her by her collar like a wet kitten, unsure if he could get through to her. Bloody dementors, they had obviously cost her her last remaining brain cells. "Wait until we've got the prophecy!" he yelled at her.

Potter's voice made him turn and face the boy again. The young wizard seemed to be a bit too unfazed after the deflected attack as he asked calmly: "You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over." Lucius did not like calm. He wanted these children too terrified to think. "Do not play games with us, Potter," he threatened.

"I'm not playing games," said the boy, looking genuinely clueless. Lucius shook his head in disbelief. "Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" he sneered. "I - what?" said Potter, looking confused now. "What about my scar?" Oh, the ignorance of the boy who lived was priceless. "Can this be?" Lucius taunted. Some of the Death Eaters were laughing again. It seemed he was regaining control of the situation after all.

"Dumbledore never told you?" he repeated. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter. The Dark Lord wondered why you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording…"

"Did he?" asked the boy. "So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?"

"Why?" This was getting better and better. "Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him." "And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?" "About both of you, Potter, about both of you… haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?"

He had Potter's full attention now. The young wizard looked hurt and scared. "Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?" he said quietly, gazing at him. "And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?" "Get it himself?" shrieked Bellatrix, over another cackle of mad laughter. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?"

"So, he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?" said Potter. "Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it -and Bode?" Lucius felt some grudging admiration for the boy. It seemed he was not as clueless as he had originally assumed. "Very good, Potter, very good…" he admitted slowly. "But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell-" A shouted command from the young wizard interrupted him mid-sentence.

"Now!" yelled the boy, and the group of children suddenly erupted before Lucius' unbelieving eyes. Five different voices bellowed "Reducto!" Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves behind the Death Eaters exploded as they hit; the towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood.

"Damn it!" roared the chief Death Eater as he felt woodchips and broken glass spheres rain down on them. "Seize them!" He heard Potter yell a command and the group of children scattered. Lucius saw McNair make a mad lunge for the boy, but he recoiled with a cry of pain, and then the blond wizard was too busy to keep himself from being clubbed to death by falling furniture in the mad pandemonium of destruction and babbling prophecies to pay much attention to anything else. This had become a horrible waking nightmare.

As the dust settled he surveyed the situation that had gone so suddenly and so terribly wrong. Several of his associates were writhing on the floor in various stages of injury. Others were dashing over to the doors that the children seemed to have sealed during their flight, trying to throw them open. He needed to regroup as swiftly as possible. A quick glance told him who was still capable of fighting.

He spat out orders. "Leave Nott, leave him, I say- his injuries will be nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary – Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left; Crabbe, Rabastan, go right - Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead - Macnair and Avery, through here -Rookwood, over there -Mulciber, come with me!" The group seemed to return to some semblance of order at that point and complied. The situation could still be salvaged.

* * *

After a mad scramble through halls and corridors, he finally came across Potter again. The boy was alone this time, seemingly having lost his companions during the flight. There he was, held at bay. They finally had him cornered. Lucius took a deep breath of relief. He felt winded, but obviously so did Potter. He watched Dolohov step to his side, leveling his wand at the young wizard's face. The man was seething with anger. "Potter, your race is run," Lucius said, pulling off his mask. He was getting hot in his heavy robes. "Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy."

"Let - let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" the boy offered desperately. A few of the Death Eaters laughed. Oh, the kid remained a self-sacrificing Gryffindor to the last. "You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," Lucius smiled. "You see, there are ten of us and only one of you…or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?"

"He's not alone!" shouted a shrill and somewhat congested voice from above them. "He's still got me!" Lucius craned his neck and watched the fat Longbottom kid awkwardly scramble down the stone benches towards them. Potter seemed rather dismayed at the sight. "Neville - no - go back to Ron…" "Stupefy!" Longbottom shouted again, pointing his wand at each Death Eater in turn. "Stupefy! Stup-"

Lucius watched Jugson walk lazily over to the frantic boy and seize him from behind, pinioning his arms to his sides. He struggled and kicked and Lucius fought down an amused smirk. Gryffindor idiocy at its very best. "It's Longbottom, isn't it?" he sneered. "Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause… your death will not come as a great shock."

"Longbottom?" repeated Bellatrix, and a truly evil smile lit her gaunt face. "Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy." That really set off their prisoner. "I know you have," he roared and fought so hard against Jugson's grip that the Death Eater shouted, "Someone stun him!"

"No, no, no," said Bellatrix. Lucius watched her as she glanced at Potter, then back at Longbottom. She was glowing with sadistic excitement and he decided to let her have some fun. "No, let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents. Unless Potter wants to give us the prophecy."

"Don't give it to them!" roared the fat boy, who seemed beside himself, kicking and writhing as Bellatrix drew nearer to him, her wand raised. "Don't give it to them, Harry!"

Bellatrix raised her wand. "Crucio!" Lucius prepared himself for the onslaught of agonized yelling on his ears, the usual tedious and predictable reaction of everyone who crossed his sweet sister-in-law. Longbottom screamed, his legs drawn up to his chest, so that Jugson was momentarily holding him off the ground. He dropped him in disgust and the aurors' son fell to the floor, twitching and screaming in agony.

"That was just a taster!" crowed Bellatrix, raising her wand so that the boy's screams stopped and he lay sobbing at her feet. She turned and gazed up at the boy who lived. "Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch your little friend die the hard way!" Lucius nodded in appreciation. It seemed the woman was going to redeem herself for her earlier outburst. Slowly Potter held out the small sphere and he eagerly jumped forwards to take it.

A sudden noise distracted him just as he felt the warm glass under his fingertips. High above them, two doors burst open and five more people sprinted into the room: he turned in alarm, and raised his wand, but a woman he recognized as Andromeda's muggle spawn had already sent a stunning spell right at him. It grazed him despite his frantic attempt to duck it and he felt his limbs twitch and grow limp for a few moments. His legs collapsed beneath him and he watched helplessly as Potter dove away.

Lucius cursed and gritted his teeth. This was his last, best and only chance. If he screwed this up he could kiss his life goodbye, one way or the other. While his associates engaged the newly arrived Order members in battle, he crawled on hands and knees after Potter. As the effects of the spell slowly left him, he regained command of his body and saw the boy a short distance off waiting for the Longbottom kid who was moving again, albeit much the worse for wear after the _cruciatus._

The young wizard paid no attention to his surroundings as he concentrated on his friend and Lucius took the opportunity to pounce. "The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!" he snarled at the boy and jabbed his wand in his ribs for emphasis. Potter struggled. "No - get - off - me… Neville - catch it!"

The small sphere skipped across the floor, as Longbottom span himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Lucius swiveled around and pointed his wand at Potter's friend, but suddenly felt a spell slam into him as a voice behind him yelled, "_Impediment__a_!" He exhaled in pained surprise as he was blasted off his back. Agony enveloped him in a red haze as he smashed into a dais further off, but he fought to keep conscious, got up, threw back his cloak and again aimed his wand at the two boys when suddenly a man he recognized as the werewolf who had taught at Hogwarts for a while stepped in the way.

Before he could adjust, the scruffily-dressed scar-faced man had leveled his wand at him. "Stupefy!" he heard, before his mind went blank. And before his limp body hit the ground, very quietly, as if from a huge distance: "_Petrificus totalus!_"


	7. Quando Pagas Te Defendiamus

_**Quando Pagas Te Defendiamus**___

_"Laws should apply also to those who make them." (Anonymous)_

Eleanor Sartorius surveyed the startled, big-eyed faces of her second-year Defense against the Dark Arts students. She used her wand to put out the fire she had started at the back of the classroom and held up the black concave glass mirror she had used to direct magical energy.

"Okay, let's try this. I need two volunteers. Very good, Hendrijk, Olga, come up front. Now Hendrijk, I want you to protect yourself first. Step behind that screen here, and prepare yourself. Use the shielding spells I have taught you. Olga, here take the mirror, focus your thoughts and then when you feel they are strong enough, use the mirror to direct them. Think of the concave surface as a lens that bundles your energy. Those of you, who know about muggle technology, could also visualize a laser."

She placed the girl on the chair in front of the class. "Ready? Okay, give it a try. Nothing drastic, though. We are already in the school nurse's bad books."

Everyone was watching as the second-year concentrated and then lifted and pointed the mirror. A moment later Hendrijk dashed out from behind the screen, yelling. Eleanor hissed in disgust. "Focus, boy! So your robes are on fire, you know a spell for that! Use it!"

But the student was too distressed to counteract the hex and she hurried over and doused the flames with a spell. "Merlin's toenails! What's the point of studying defense when you panic at the first sign of an attack? Five points from the House of Water!" She took a look at the boy and decided to send him to the infirmary for a draught of ash water, a potion that counteracted burns.

"Olga, come over here. I told you: nothing drastic. What is your understanding of drastic, if I may enquire? Don't answer that. I don't want to find out. Fifteen points to be deduced from House of Air for your reckless behavior." She allowed herself a small smile. "Five points to be added for House of Air, because that was an excellent first performance. Good focus and execution."

She was calling out two other students, finding that the class' enthusiasm for trying the new technique had dropped off a little, when suddenly a large snow owl swooped through the long hall and perched on her desk with an urgent hoot. The bird was unfamiliar to her and seemed quite exhausted. "Right," she demanded. "Everyone knows owls in private quarters, common rooms and the dining hall only. Whose is this?"

Blank stares from everyone. She instructed the new attack and defense pair to take their positions and glanced at the owl's message. It was addressed to her, looked official and bore a confidentiality seal from a law firm in London. She felt her stomach churn, and briefly petted the owl. "Go, perch over there," she instructed the bird. "I'll have time for you in a few minutes."

She had to fight hard to focus on her class while the student wielding the mirror caused his victim to shrink at a rather alarming rate. However the recipient of the spell fought back, and the class erupted in laughter as a gangly blond boy disappeared into his robes only to grow back to his normal size.

She awarded both pupils house points and then gave the class their homework. "For next week I want you to each construct your own magical mirror. You can get the concave glass disks from the alchemy supplies in the keep of Professor Stolcius, and the janitor has black paint. Put personal sigils on the backs of your mirrors that you feel will enhance their power. You are also welcome to practice amongst yourselves on volunteers. But if I find anyone getting up to mischief and remotely hexing other students or teachers without their consent, I will see to it that your spells backfire – severely! Class dismissed."

With the usual chatter and racket her students packed up their books and utensils and tramped out of the large vaulted chamber that served as the defense classroom. It was time for lunch. As the last student had left, she walked over to her messenger and with trembling fingers untied the message from the owl's foot. She broke the seal and unfurled the elegantly penned note.

"Attn. Professor E. Sartorius,

I am writing to you at the instruction of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, my client. A rather unfortunate event has necessitated that I get in contact with you. Yesterday Mr. Malfoy was arrested on charges of conspiracy, attempted robbery and reckless endangerment of minors. He is currently being held by the Ministry at Azkaban prison for questioning.

I have clear orders to meet with you at our offices in Knockturn Alley in this event and give into your care certain effects that Mr. Malfoy has left with us. Please make an appointment and meet me as soon as you are able.

Yours respectfully Marcellus Tethering, Advocatus

Law Firm of Belisarius & Tethering  
42 C Knockturn Alley  
London"

Eleanor sat down hard on one of the tables. What she had feared had really happened. Lucius had been doing Voldemort's work, and he had been caught and arrested. The game was finally up.

All of her impulses drove her to London to find out what happened, to see if she could help. She needed to see Tethering that very day if she could. She thought quickly. The second year class had been the last for the day. The quiddich match this afternoon she could miss. It was between House of Air and House of Earth, and of course Victor Krum's team would win – no surprise there. She called a house elf, gave him a message for the head mistress to let her know she had left on urgent business, and then enchanted a portkey to apparate behind the _Leaky Cauldron_ in Diagon Alley.

* * *

After the usual pulling sensation and rush she felt herself materialize near a group of people who were agitatedly chatting together looking at a large poster that was pasted to the back wall of the pub. She winced as she felt the talons of Advocatus Tethering's owl dig into her shoulder and edged up to the wizards and witches.

"You-Know-Who Lives!" read the blood red headline of the poster. Below were printed instructions on how to protect oneself and deal with the threat. It seemed the Ministry was also trying to enforce a curfew. She snorted in disgust. Hell, the man had been out and about for two years now, with absolutely no one taking notice.

Before anyone could turn and talk to her she walked away and pushed through the crowds towards the narrow stone stairs that led to the less reputable part of the wizarding quarter. At the entrance to Knockturn Alley some aurors in civilian clothes were trying to loiter inconspicuously, surveying the crowd. She recognized two of them as former students of hers from Durmstrang, and waved at them, before she made her way down the steps. The two youngsters looked decidedly uncomfortable at being identified, but didn't challenge her.

Two thirds down the crooked cobble-stoned street and a few narrow crumbling houses past _Borgin and Burke's_ she saw faded gold lettering in an old half-blind window. _Law Office of Belisarius & Tethering. Advocati since 413 AD. Quando pagas te defendiamus – If you can pay, we'll defend you_. She lifted an eyebrow. That sounded about right for the ethical and moral credo of an advocatus in the employ of the Malfoy family. The owl nibbled at her earlobe impatiently and she turned. "Yes, all right, I'm going in already," she promised the bird.

When she opened the tall, creaking wood door, she found herself in for a surprise: instead of some small dingy office she had stepped into a magnificent hallway. The walls were upholstered in blood-red dragonhide and the floor was paved with huge slabs of alabaster that reflected the light of candle-covered crystal chandeliers. Obviously the clients of Belisarius and Tethering paid very, very well. She paused and looked around. The owl hooted softly and took off down the hall.

Eleanor blinked in amazement as a stunningly beautiful, black-clad woman with raven black hair glided towards her. The witch's skin was as pale as the alabaster floor and her crimson lips curved in a disdainful smile as she addressed her visitor. "May I enquire as to your business here, madam?" She revealed two perfect, razor-sharp white fangs, and Eleanor barely kept her composure as she realized that the advocati employed an actual honest-to-goddess vampire. This was highly irregular.

She swallowed, feeling somewhat boorish before the ethereal beauty of the undead. "I am here to see Advocatus Tethering with regards to his client Lucius Malfoy. My name is Eleanor Sartorius, and I am afraid I do not have an appointment."

The vampire immediately wiped the arrogant smile off her face and surveyed Eleanor with newfound interest. "Oh, Professor, you are expected. Anything relating to Lucius Malfoy is always treated with the highest priority. We are all very shocked and saddened by his recent arrest. I am Desdemona, by the way." She stretched out a pale skeletal hand and motioned for Eleanor to follow her into the depths of the building.

Finally they arrived before a tall door and Desdemona put her fingers on the handle, but before she opened the office, the vampire suddenly leaned in, bringing her pale face right to Eleanor's ear. The witch felt a deathly chill spread outwards from the slender form next to her and shuddered. "So, my dear, how do you find Lucius? Delicious, yes?" Eleanor took a surprised and offended step back at the sudden familiarity. "What?" "Oh, do not pretend otherwise. I know what he's left you, and he would not indulge someone like that without reason. You are obviously in his favor. Humor my curiosity, please. Of course we were together a long, long time ago." The vampire smiled wistfully.

Eleanor shook her head. "If you were, than we both know what we're talking about. No need to discuss it." She assessed the lawyers' employee. "I wonder why he ever gave you up," she said calmly, honestly acknowledging the other woman's beauty and charisma. Desdemona flashed her a feral smile. "He didn't want to risk getting bitten, and I was getting harder and harder to control, I'm afraid." Eleanor shrugged. "Pity for you, lucky for me," she stated coolly. The vampire hissed quietly and finally opened the door for her. "Mr. Tethering," she called out. "Professor Sartorius here to see you." Without another word or glance back she turned on her heel and moved noiselessly towards the entrance hall.

Eleanor stepped into a lavishly furnished office and focused on the man who had risen behind his desk. The wizard who stepped forward to greet her looked out of place in his elegant surroundings. He seemed completely unremarkable, appeared to be of the age of a muggle of about sixty and wore drab grey robes. He sported a small pointed goatee and his narrow face was surrounded by an unruly mop of spiny grey hair. However, as she walked up to him to greet him, she noticed the keen light in his narrow dark eyes and realized that there had to be few things that escaped the sharp intelligence of Lucius' advocatus. She would not underestimate this man, and he might prove a capable and powerful allay in her fight to salvage the mess Lucius had gotten himself into.

"I felt the situation was too urgent to wait," she explained. "I hope I am not inconveniencing you." Tethering shook her hand and motioned for her to sit down. "Absolutely not," he assured her. "This is a very grave problem, and Mr. Malfoy informed me that you might be able to help us in organizing his defense." "Of course," she replied. "I will assist in any way I can." Tethering walked over to a cabinet and bent down to retrieve a parcel from a sealed drawer. He placed it before her. "First of all I would like to discharge my duty towards my client and put these objects in your care. Mr. Malfoy wanted you to have them. Please feel free to examine them."

Eleanor broke the seal with the Malfoy crest of a serpent that was stamped on the twine wrapped around the parcel and stripped off the heavy vellum to reveal a beautifully carved wooden box with a hinged lid. She opened it and found a bound black leather notebook, a heavy brass key and a letter inside. The key she identified as a _Gringott's_ vault key. She next unfolded the letter and immediately recognized Lucius' powerful and elegant handwriting.

"My dear Eleanor,

When you are reading this note you will already know that the Dark Lord's plans have gone awry and that I am either dead or imprisoned as a consequence. It pains me to have finally proved you right.

I am leaving certain things in your care that I feel no one else would use or appreciate in the way you could. The key opens an unmarked vault at _Gringotts _that contains a part of my magical library (the darkest part, as you can imagine), my alchemistical equipment and a few personal effects that I flatter myself may have some sentimental value to you. (No, my riding crop is not among them, in case you wondered…)

The black book contains two lifetimes' worth of work (my father's and my own) regarding the underbelly of our world. Use it, abuse it, and live a little, my dear. It will give you leverage beyond belief. Have fun with it. I will not insult you by leaving you money.

If I am imprisoned I hope that I have earned your affections to the point where you will help my trusted lawyer Advocatus Tethering in securing my release, or at least a more lenient sentence. However, if the choice should stand between death and life imprisonment, I hope that you find the mercy in you to have me executed.

If I am dead I will reiterate my advice that I gave you when we first met and that I abandoned in the years that followed for selfish reasons of keeping you with me. Go, marry a decent pureblooded wizard, forget about me and ensure the survival of your blood-line.

So, my love, I leave you. Raise hell, follow your will, be the granddaughter of Falco Sartorius, and never, ever, regret anything!

Love, Lucius."

She slowly lowered the soft vellum of his letter, biting back a sob. She could hear him speak those words to her, his voice smooth and gravelly at the same time, supercilious, ironic and tender, sending shivers down her spine. But the last line just killed her. "Love, Lucius." He had never signed himself like this. Love had never been an option, until now when, apparently, it was too late for everything.

She folded up the parchment and blinked before she lifted up the black book and found that it was magically sealed. "_Nemo me impune lacessit_," appeared in flaming script on the font of it as she tried to open it. She smiled. Lucius had used the motto of his family: "No one provokes me unpunished." She gently ran her fingers over the soft calfskin. "_Vive lumine, disce opacum_," she intoned her family credo. "Live in the light, know the shadow." The book opened with a soft rustle and she looked at the handwritten notes.

The first third of the book was filled with a forceful, slanting script that had to be the writing of Octavian Malfoy, Lucius' father. The rest showed Lucius' own bold, fluid writing. As she began to read, she gasped in amazement. The book contained dirt on everyone and anyone: Fudge for example had apparently embezzled money to pay an outrageous jewelry bill his wife had run up with a craftsman in Hong Kong.

The Unspeakable Walter Soren had slept with an underage witch by the name of Asphodela Richards. She read Lucius' note about the girl and felt mildly sick: "Fifteen, precocious, clever, very skilled for her age and greedy for money. Likes having her pictures taken while on assignment. Could be used for about another two or three set-ups before she comes of age, possible candidates; A.F.C., auror, and G.V.B., Ministry Consul in Paris. Both like their prey young. Commission some school robes from Mrs. Malkin and advise A.R. on dyeing her hair black for A.F.C."

Eleanor flipped the page and read a later entry that read. "A.F.C. compromised, knows pictures can be sent to his wife and superiors." She surveyed the enchanted moving pictures pasted beneath the entry and choked. It didn't get much more explicit than that. She was not surprised that even someone like Lucius had judged young Asphodela as very skilled.

Some blackmail scenarios had a brief note behind them, "favor called in", that seemed to indicate that Lucius had already used his leverage. He seemed to have a warped business sense about his transactions in sordidness, as he apparently did not use a scenario repeatedly for extortion. 'Ever the gentleman dark wizard,' she thought as she lifted her head.

She closed the book and suddenly felt a fierce resolve in her that frightened her. She realized that in a certain way she held the key to Lucius future in her hands. How far would she go to help him? Would she resort to blackmail? Would she have the stomach to make these people regret their own failings to the extent that her lover's crimes would blanch in comparison? It suddenly looked to her, as if she could really free him with this tool he had given her.

Tethering cleared his throat and she met his eyes. He seemed to assess her with cool detachment as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. "I see that you understand the value of Mr. Malfoy's legacy. For you, and perhaps for him, should you be inclined to help us."

She carefully placed the letter and the book back in the box. "I need to know more first. What are his prospects? Is anyone else on the case? What are you planning to do? Is his wife involved in any efforts on his behalf?" she asked, trying to remain calm and noncommittal. Before taking the plunge into crime herself, she wanted to know what she would be saving Lucius from.

Tethering leaned forwards in his chair, placing his hands flat on the table. He seemed somewhat agitated now. "This investigation and the Ministry's reactions are highly irregular. For example, I have not been allowed access to my client. I know that he has already been questioned extensively under Veritaserum, as have his associates, none of them with a lawyer present. This is illegal, but does not seem to bother anyone. It seems that the re-emergence of Voldemort has simply suspended our entire, centuries-old legal system. I could not even tell you for sure right now whether the captured Death Eaters are being tortured or not. The only circumstance in our favor is the desertion of the Dementors. At least the aurors cannot inflict unlimited mental anguish."

Eleanor stared at the advocatus in shock. "Can they do that?" Tethering leaned back, trying to calm himself. "Apparently they just have," he said with an air of resignation. "So with the current situation being this unpredictable, it is hard to say what the sentences will be like. I am sure there will be a large faction of the wizengamot judges and citizens that would favor the death penalty, simply out of fear. A dead man poses no threat. Lifetime imprisonment may be seen as risky by many with Voldemort at large and without the Dementors securing the prisoners."

"But death penalties have been carried out by Dementor's Kiss for centuries now," objected Eleanor. "With them gone, how would they execute the Death Eaters?" Tethering's lips twitched. "Your guess is as good as mine. There are a lot of ways to separate body from spirit. Some are less pleasant than others, as you will know. I'm sure they'll find a way, probably less pleasant. After all, a Dementor's Kiss isn't exactly a walk in the park, either."

Eleanor felt suddenly cold, sick and shaky. She pictured Lucius, the way she had seen him only last Saturday morning when she had woken up next to him, but now in her mind his face changed. What would he look like after weeks of questioning, under torture perhaps, after a rushed and unfair show-trial, only to be put to death in a public execution? What would they do, behead him, hang him, poison him – would they revert to the old muggle atrocity of burning him at the stake?

Tethering walked over to a cabinet and poured her a hot tea from a samovar. He stepped around the table and put the cup in front of her. "Here, you look like you need it," he said not unkindly. She lifted the translucent porcelain cup and took a sip of the strong hot brew, noticing that her hands trembled. She inhaled deeply.

"What are our options?" she asked and then surprised herself at her next words. "Will Voldemort intervene?" Tethering flinched. "I would prefer if you did refer to him as the Dark Lord," he suggested. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "Mr. Malfoy tells me you are not a Death Eater. As I am neither, we can only speculate. I believe, however, from previous cases that I have handled that the Dark Lord typically finds his followers expendable, especially, if they have made statements to the aurors. And as the Ministry officials have used Veritaserum on Mr. Malfoy in an unchecked manner that will surely have been the case. Frankly, I would not count on it, Professor."

Eleanor took another sip. "So is Narcissa taking any steps to aid her husband?" Tethering snorted. "She has been soliciting the services of another law office in Diagon Alley for some time now. But as far as I know she has not made any move in the matter at all. Should Mr. Malfoy be executed she and her family would find themselves in the position of being heirs to a rather large estate. I do not think it's in her best interest to get involved at all."

Eleanor considered this and sat up straight, facing Tethering across the desk. "So you are telling me, it's us or no one," she stated. "Us against the rest of the Black family, against the Dark Lord, against the entire Ministry and legal authorities and against the public." The elderly lawyer flashed her an almost boyish grin. "Fun, eh?" She shook her head and drank down the last of her tea. "Suicidally evil and heroic," she agreed. Before she could review her decision, she had pulled Lucius' black book back out of the box and slammed it down on the dark wood of the desk before her.

"Fine," she said. "Let's rake up some serious muck. Who do we have to get to, to turn this situation around?" The advocatus gave her an appreciative look. "I believe Mr. Malfoy was not mistaken in his assessment of you. Let me get some help." He touched a bell, and a moment later the vampire Desdemona opened the door. "Des, get Belisarius. Come back with him. We will be leaning on some people." The woman glanced over to Eleanor for a moment, flashing her fangs at her, and then turned back.

A few minutes later a tall, portly gentleman entered the room. His dark brown curls were arranged around his pale, sensuous face with flawless precision and he wore elaborate robes that seemed to date back to the times of the Byzantine empire. He spoke with an accent Eleanor could not place. "Gaius Belisarius, at your service." They shook hands. Desdemona followed right behind him and pulled up two chairs. She helped her employer to settle in, then slid into the other chair as if she possessed no bones.

Tethering, who now truly looked like a grey, Kafkaesque bureaucrat in comparison to his colorful associates poured tea for Eleanor, Belisarius and himself and a goblet of red liquid for their assistant and smiled. "We are commencing Operation Malfoy. Professor Sartorius has agreed to release the information we need to start taking control of his lawsuit. My suggestion would be to identify the scenarios that would give us the most productive leverage and pursue them relentlessly, until we have achieved our objective."

Eleanor had the distinct impression of sitting among a pack of vultures about to consume some freshly-hunted cadaver. She placed her hand on the book, very well aware that she was as close as she'd ever get to making a pact with the devil. "Before we begin, I'd like to propose a few basic rules," she said, forcing a look of self-possessed arrogance on her face.


	8. The Prisoner of Azkaban

**The Prisoner of Azkaban**

_"But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porcupine." (William Shakespeare: Hamlet Prince of Denmark: I, v)_

Eleanor placed a mug of steaming hot tea on the small coffee table before her. She sat on a well-worn sofa in the living-room of an old Victorian house in the north of London. The house had once belonged to her parents, and she had lived in it for most of her life until a memorable June afternoon six years ago, when she had accepted her first teaching position at Hogwarts.

The turquoise evening light in the garden behind the bay window had begun to fail and the room was now shrouded in shadow. A fire crackled quietly in the fire-place, but she did not get up to switch on the lights. Her cat, Isis, lay sleeping in her lap, and she didn't want to wake her. So she watched as darkness crept up the walls and the flames cast flickering shadows on the ceiling. Lost in thought, she gently threaded her fingers through the soft fur of her pet.

Two weeks had passed since Lucius' arrest and her visit to Knockturn Alley. The school year at Durmstrang had finished, and instead of packing her things and her familiar and quartering herself with her lover at Malfoy Manor for the summer, as she had done for the last few years, she had quietly moved into her old place. It had taken her a few days of spellwork, shopping and minor repairs to get the deserted house back in order, and she had to admit that as far as the luxuries of living were concerned, things could be better. But she wanted to be as close to the center of action as possible.

She sighed. When she was idle and alone like tonight, she felt a thick fog of depression descend on her. She had tried to divert herself by cooking a meal, muggle-style to kill time, reading some of Lucius' grimoires, which she had removed from the vault at Gringotts, that he had set up for her, and had practiced the evasion of unforgivables that she had learned from her demon invocation. Nothing had helped.

She thought back on the conversation with the lawyers. After careful study of Lucius' black book of shame, they had decided that they could influence probably three of the seven wizengamot judges, not enough for a majority, if a judgment would be put to the vote. They had decided to go ahead and try anyway. Eleanor had stipulated that each recorded transgression could only be used once, as had been Lucius' modus operandi.

They had also discussed the sentence they would try to promote. She had told them that life in prison was not an option. After some debate Belisarius had got up and pulled a thick folio from the shelf. He had begun reading, while Desdemona, Tethering and herself had discussed ways to get access to Lucius in Azkaban. She simply wanted to see him. Tethering wanted to discuss his defense. He also wanted to get ammunition in order to have the illegally obtained Veritaserum confessions suppressed as evidence.

Finally Belisarius had closed the folio tapping his manicured pale fingers on the heavy leather binding. "Exile," he had said. Tethering had nodded slowly. "We could get exile," he'd said. Eleanor had leaned forward. "Exile from what?" she had asked.

Belisarius had tilted his head and calmly explained. "Exile from our world. The sentenced offender is stripped of all magical abilities, or should I say, hexed so he cannot execute them. His wand is brought before him and broken, and he is banished from all wizarding places, to spend the rest of his natural life among muggles. He is given enough means to survive for a week. No one may aid him and no one may come after him for revenge under threat of the severest penalties, and to all wizards and witches he is as if he were dead."

She had felt a sick chill spread through her at the advocatus' unemotional words. Lucius Malfoy reduced to life as a muggle. Holy Hecate! She shook her head at the irony of it all. He wouldn't make it for even a week, but probably go down in a blaze of glory, taking as many muggles with him as possible. Exile was almost as terrible as a death sentence.

Tethering had obviously noticed her disappointment. "We have to strive for the possible here. If we get Lucius sentence reduced to the point where the public cannot see the punishment inherent in it, we'll have something close to civil war on our hands. Your common wizard and witch on the street wants to see blood. And the fact that someone as prominent and feared as Malfoy is the accused does not help. Even if we could blackmail the entire wizengamot into letting him off, he'll be as good as dead. He'd have a lynch-mob after him for the rest of his natural life. No one would accept the sentence."

She had hung her head. Of course Tethering had been right. And so they had worked out the final details of their game plan and had parted.

* * *

A sudden tapping noise on the glass of the bay window made her look up. It was finally dark outside, but even in the inky shades cast by the old trees in the garden, she could see that a small flying animal was softly hitting the glass. With a sigh she lifted Isis, who mewed unhappily, and set her down on the sofa. Then she gathered her robes and walked up to the window. The culprit was a bat. 

Eleanor decided that this probably was no ordinary bat, as its sonar should have told it better than to fly into a window. She flipped the latch and opened the middle pane. Immediately the bat zoomed through and came to land on the floor before her. For a moment she thought she had an animagus before her, as the bat rapidly grew and transformed. She quickly reached for her wand, but then she recognized the black hair, and pale arrogant features of Mr. Belisarius' assistant.

Desdemona stepped into the room. She had exchanged her elegant black office robes for some revealing Muggle club-wear that involved the very inventive use of black latex. She bowed curtly. "Professor, good evening." Eleanor closed the window. "Please, have a seat. May I offer you anything?" The vampire gave her a quizzical look. "Your left jugular, perhaps," she suggested.

The witch smiled at the suggestion. "I did not know vampires had a sense of humor. I thought more along the lines of a goblet of blood." Desdemona sat down and stretched lazily. "Oh, that's okay. Wouldn't want to dull my appetite. My employers have a message for you. I offered to come by and tell you, as I am done for the day and am on my way to dinner." Eleanor walked back to her old place on the sofa. "Well, your food will find you irresistible, I'm sure."

Desdemona bared her fangs at her in a feral smile. "And yourself? Tempted?" she asked. The red-haired woman took a calm sip of her tea. "You know your competition," she suggested. "Therefore forgive me, if I don't answer. I would not like to offend. What is the advocatus' message?"

The vampire looked at her. "Curious. I have always thought that Lucius Malfoy brought out many things in people. I never counted loyalty among them." Eleanor leaned back. "Strange as it may sound, but I am merely reciprocating." Now Desdemona finally laughed out loud. "Him? Loyal? Oh my dear, this conversation is priceless. He must have hexed you good."

The witch reached for her cat again. "I guess so if taking a _cruciatus_ on oneself to keep the other person safe qualifies as a hex." The vampire stared at her. "He did that?" she asked. Eleanor lifted an eyebrow. "Your message, please, Desdemona."

Her visitor sighed. "Permission has been granted for a visit to Azkaban prison. I guess we finally talked to the right Unspeakable. Their treatment of all the accused in this case is highly irregular. It seems that innocent until proven guilty has been temporarily suspended as far as suspected Death Eaters are concerned. You are to meet with Advocatus Tethering tomorrow at 11:00 at the Ministry, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They will issue permits and a portkey."

Eleanor felt anticipation and fear at the same time. She would see him again, but how would he be? What had they done to him? She realized her hands were trembling. With outward calm she got up, lifting Isis. "That is excellent news," she said. "You people are worth every galleon! Well, thanks for delivering the message in person, Desdemona. I guess I mustn't keep you from your evening's entertainment." She walked up to the window and opened it, having little patience to indulge the vampire's desire to share polite unpleasantries with regards to Lucius Malfoy.

Finally the vampire had retransformed and flown off. Eleanor grabbed Isis and executed a few excited twirls round the living room, robes flying. "We're going to Azkaban," she cried in exultation. "We've made it!" She knew it was only a small victory, and she was not too pleased with the warped ethics that got her there, but she thought that her dark wizard grandfather Falco would probably have condoned her behavior.

* * *

After a rather sleepless night she dressed, had breakfast, killed a few hours with spell-practice and finally found herself outside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where Tethering and a dour-looking auror were already waiting for her. Tethering had a conspiratory gleam in his dark eyes as he shook her hand. "We are making progress," he told her. "I have some good and some bad news, but for now let's concentrate on our visit." He held out the parchment with the permit to the auror, who promptly produced a portkey, and a second later they stood in the grey courtyard of an incredibly ancient-looking fortress. 

Eleanor could hear the roar of breakers and smelt sea air as she looked about her. High walls built of impenetrable grey granite towered around her on all sides. They were broken at regular intervals by small, narrow windows secured by iron grills. The air felt cold for a sunny June day. She shivered, and thought that the cruelty and despair of the Dementors still clung to the place like an evil, sticky aura of misery.

Moments later a heavy gate opened and two uniformed aurors walked towards them, their feet echoing on the pavement. Eleanor blinked. The two young officials looked very familiar, and she realized they were both Durmstrang alumni who had studied Defense against the Dark Arts with her.

The aurors were certainly surprised to see her, but after it became clear that she had permission to visit a notorious Death Eater, their welcome cooled perceptibly. Eleanor hung back, and decided to let Tethering take care of the arrangements. She craned her neck to look up at the rows upon rows of cell windows, wondering where they kept Lucius.

Tethering spoke with professional calm with the aurors, while she followed the group back through the gate and down a long torch-lit corridor. Moisture ran from the walls and slicked the flagstones that paved the floors. She gathered her long, black, button-down robes to prevent them from dragging though the slime on the ground.

They wound their way up crooked staircases and down long echoing corridors punctuated at regular intervals by heavy iron cell-doors. She thought she heard hoarse screaming behind some, crying behind others. Auror guards with drawn wands stood at every corner and eyed them with mistrust as they passed. As the minutes of their march wore on she felt the misery of the place seep into her and finally stumbled along as if through a waking nightmare.

Suddenly the aurors stopped before yet another door. Eleanor tore herself out of her stupor and watched them. She would never forget the next few minutes of her life, and even years later would shudder at the memories.

* * *

She hears the harsh crack of metal on metal as they unlock the heavy cell door for her. She turns to the two aurors and Tethering, digging her nails into her palms as she hears herself plead. "Please, ten minutes alone with him. That's all I'm asking." The advocatus nods, the two young people look unhappy and uncomfortable, but finally they stand down. She has taught them everything they know. They feel they owe her. "Fine," the young woman says ungraciously, "Ten minutes." 

They push open the cell door for her. Behind is blackness, and the stench of indignity, of despair, of death. She steps forward without a thought but for him, and as her eyes adjust to the faint crepuscular light, she sees him. A lump of humanity, bent over, head in his hands, sitting on a low wood bench. At the noise of her entrance he looks up. She thinks she can read hatred and defiance on his pale face, until he recognizes her.

Abruptly his crouched frame straightens, he strains towards her with a clink of metal, only to be brought up short. His hands fly to his throat and she realizes with a sickening churn of her stomach, that they have put an iron collar around his neck, with a chain leading to the wall. It allows him only to stand, to sit and lie on his "bed" and to use a covered wood bucket they have put next to it.

In a rush she is with him, bridging the gap that he cannot cross and throws her arms around him. He holds her, fiercely, like a drowning man would grab a plank of wood. She tries not to let him realize that he is one step away from crushing the very life out of her. His face bends to her neck and she feels him breathing her in in long gulps of the same air that his arms are squeezing out of her. She lets him.

"Eleanor," his voice is unfamiliar: quiet, secretive, rough. She eventually moves back in his embrace and dares to look at him. Over two weeks in Azkaban. He is filthy: hair matted, cheeks and chin bristling with an unchecked growth of a beard, his ragged prison uniform handed down to him from another unfortunate inmate without being cleaned first. No one could get a garment this torn and filthy in such a short time.

She now sees how gaunt he looks, realizes the yellowish hue of his skin and eyes. 'Veritaserum,' she thinks angrily. Overdoses will invariably affect the liver, and in his case they seem to have immersed him in it. He is malnourished and jaundiced, and the iron collar has left the skin around his neck abraded and scabbed, and her anger flares up to heights she fears she will not be able to control.

All her instincts are pushing her to try _empathicura_, the magical skill of drawing a person's injuries into oneself and then controlling one's own body to heal them. But the deadened feeling that permeates her as she tries to touch him that way tells her that the cell has been fortified against all magic. Everyone it keeps will have less powers than a squib.

She releases the touch-points, simply wrapping him up in her arms. "I am so sorry, Lucius." He shakes his head. "Don't be," he answers her with surprising gentleness in his new strange voice. "I've always known it might end this way. You are the first friendly face I am seeing in this hell-hole." His hands come up to caress her face, and she is shocked how rough and calloused they feel.

"I am here with Tethering," she whispers. "We are doing everything we can to get you out." He gives a mirthless chuckle. "No chance, they have fucked me up for good this time. They've completely done away with interrogation protocol. There is nothing I haven't told them." She bristles at the implications. "If they tortured you…!" she starts, her fury finally finding an outlet, but he runs his hands over her back as if to calm her, then sits down on his bunk again, beaten, drained.

"No need," he tells her softly. "Any liquid I've got in this place so far has been pure Veriaserum. So I can either die of thirst or confess. Sadly, I realize that I have chosen confession. The Dark Lord will find fault with me, I'm afraid."

He runs his hand over his eyes, and her body suddenly aches with the defeat she senses in him. She becomes aware that over the past years she has been – among other things – in love with his outward polished perfection. She can upbraid herself for the shallowness of the sentiment, nonetheless, it is there. To see him like this is pure agony.

She is on her knees before him now, imploring him. "Lucius, don't give up. They won't get away with this. We are using your book, we'll turn some of the judges. Right now public opinion may be against you, but over the last few days they have arrested people at random, just on the mere suspicion of being Death Eaters, innocent and guilty alike, and thrown them into prison without formal charges. Folks won't stand long for that kind of lawlessness."

His face is level with hers now. His grey eyes are gleaming with a short flare of his old arrogance. "Yes," he growls. "They must be scared witless of us. And rightly so. No one has ever threatened their silly little safe world like that. Now they think to fight fire with fire, but they lack our ruthlessness, and they will lose."

She stares at him. Even now, even here, he still thinks like a Death Eater. "Do you think Voldemort will save you?" she asks. He tilts his head, his hand coming up to gently trail over her neck. The corners of his mouth briefly twitch with a pained ironic smile. "No, my dear, the Dark Lord will kill me. I am now a warlock, a traitor to my fellows. I can expect no mercy."

Eleanor moves in, holds him, with nothing more to say, no hope to give. She is certain now that they have reached the nadir of despair, and what felt like a fight that could be won, out there under the blue sky and in the open air has been reduced to the false illusion it really is, here in the dank, cold darkness of this ancient cell. She feels him breathe, his arms around her. And she believes in her deepest heart, this will be their final good-bye. She wills herself to hold on to this last memory of him as tears fill her eyes.


	9. All Manner of Vermin

**All Manner of Vermin**

_"A good indignation brings out all one's powers". (Ralph Waldo Emerson)  
  
_

The cell door opened with a squeak and Tethering and the two aurors entered. She heard Lucius sigh quietly and release her, and she leaned back and got up. The advocatus gave her a searching look and nodded to himself as if to confirm something. Before even greeting his client he turned to the guards.

"I wish to be provided with a list of all spells this cell is impregnated with. I believe there are several irregular _tristitia_ hexes here, aside from the magical suppression spell. Also, what do you think you are doing fitting your prisoner with a collar?" His voice sounded sharp and outraged and cut through the haze of depression and misery that blanketed her.

The aurors exchanged troubled glances. "Uh, we would have to inform our superior," the man said. "We didn't prepare the cell or secure the prisoner." Tethering whirled round to face them. His brows knit in a furious scowl. "Then do it, before I lodge a complaint about torture and the abuse of suspects!" The aurors whispered briefly. Then the woman left in a hurry.

Tethering meanwhile had walked over to Lucius and shook his hand. "Mr. Malfoy. While I am pleased to be able to finally visit, I am shocked and outraged to see you in such a state." The wizard had got up from his bunk again, weariness in every movement and greeted his advocatus. Tethering leaned in, motioning for Eleanor to join them.

"What you are experiencing is not normal," he whispered to them. "This cell has been magically prepared to drain all hope and optimism from inhabitants. You are feeling something of a reduced Dementor effect. Try to fight it. Your depression is not real and not warranted by the situation. I would suggest you work up a decent level of outrage at your treatment. Fury normally does the trick."

He stepped back a little. "Mr. Malfoy, what is the most vexatious aspect of your current situation?" he asked in a normal voice. Eleanor watched Lucius' lips compress. His features slowly sharpened in anger, and she found herself breathing harder as he seemed to regain some of his former strength and temper. Suddenly he brought his face close to them, his fists clenched at his side. "I have lice!" he hissed.

"I am the head of the house of Malfoy, and I have lice! They were in the hay-stuffed bag they call a mattress and the filthy rags they call a prison uniform. Now I can feel them crawl on me as I try to sleep, and I have no magical means to rid myself of them. Bloody vermin! I would kill for this insult, if I could."

Tethering pursed his lips at seeing his client deathly pale with a lethal light in his grey eyes. "Very good, Mr. Malfoy. If you think you are ready to give up again, think about the lice. Until we can get those spells lifted, your little companions may prove to be your best friends."

He pulled a notebook and a dictating quill out of his robes. "Now, I doubt that we have much time. So we must make haste and cover the important topics. I will need to know about your interrogation first. How were you questioned? What did you tell them? We need to get everything suppressed that does not pertain to the battle at the Ministry, otherwise we have already lost this case."

The young auror was thinking to protest at this, but Tethering silenced him quickly. "If you had followed protocol from the beginning, we would not have to do this! One more attempt to obstruct me, and I will personally take the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to court."

For the next few minutes all that could be heard was Lucius describing in terse words his time in Azkaban, his initial resistance and his final submission to drinking the Veritaserum on the fifth day without water. The quill ran rapidly over its scroll of parchment while he talked. Tethering's face looked grim, when he heard about the extent to which Lucius had been questioned.

There had been aurors with him almost without interruption, sometimes they had brought him out in the middle of the night. Some sessions had lasted minutes, some hours on end, in order to disorient him. Lucius' capture had been a horrible blow to Voldemort's operations, but Eleanor was glad to hear that the advocatus did not concern himself with that.

"We need to ensure none of this is admissible in court for your trial. I am sure it will seep out in the trials of the others eventually. But my sources tell me you will be the first to go before the wizengamot, and we can put a gag order on this. I will get the transcriptions and protocols. However, we will have to allow the portions pertaining directly to the battle at the Ministry, which means, you already confessed and we will have to plead guilty to the charges. So you will stand accused of attempted robbery, reckless endangerment of minors and of conspiracy – conspiracy being the hardest to shake. There is some precedence of capital punishment for that."

Lucius looked more spirited as he considered Tethering's summary. It seemed the lice really had helped. "Fine," he agreed, always ready to cut his losses and capitalize on the moment. "What can we get away with for a sentence?" The advocatus swallowed, looking slightly nervous all of a sudden. "Exile," he said. Lucius stared at him out of icy grey eyes. "Exile! Merlin's balls! You suggest I become a squib and live among muggles? That's rich! As a matter of fact, that's unacceptable!"

The wizard's voice really carried now, and Eleanor, who was not surprised at the reaction watched her former student cringe in the corner by the door. Lucius wasn't finished yet. "Tethering, what the hell kind of potion did you drink before you came here?"

The advocatus took a step back, but before he could answer, Eleanor moved between the two men putting a hand on Lucius arm. "You need to consider more here," she said quietly, so the young auror wouldn't hear her. "We have three of seven judges under our control, so the sentencing should be a realistic goal. You haven't seen what's going on outside. People are crazy with fear at the reemergence of the Dark Lord. There have been numerous raids and unlawful arrests of innocent people.

This morning's paper carried a story about the killing of a wizard who was a suspected Death Eater by a mob. He didn't even bear the mark when they examined the man later. We are fighting very hard right now not to get you executed or locked up in here forever.

Do you think we'd let it rest after that? All I want right now is for you to get out of here and to safety. Tethering and I can work on the inside, and when the uproar dies down we will contest the judgment. There will be a backlash at the liberties the Ministry is taking with the law right now. But it won't help us if you are dead or back in here and they have thrown away the key. What shape do you think you will be in after a few months like this in Azkaban?"

Lucius stared at her. She saw his jaws work as he fought down his anger and disappointment. "I know you are doing what you can," he finally gritted out then turned away for a moment to collect himself. "The shame and humiliation of it, though. A Malfoy sentenced to live among muggles. How can I do that to my family, my ancestors, my son?"

Eleanor shook her head. There he stood, just recently exposed as a Death Eater and follower of Voldemort, and now a common prisoner, and he took it all in his stride, without a shred of embarrassment. But the thought of living as a muggle seemed to be more debasement than he could bear. She touched him again.

"You are a Slytherin, Lucius, you are a survivor," she reminded him. "You may have to live among muggles for a while, but you are not one of them. Think of a snake hiding in tall grasses to wait for the right time to strike. Why do you think the Malfoys chose the serpent as their emblem?"

Slowly the blond wizard turned back to her. His face showed little expression, but she read resolve instead of fury in his pale eyes. "A snake in the grass, eh?" He briefly touched her cheek. "Tethering, you are lucky you brought her with you. Let's talk about my defense."

They had been discussing their strategy for a few minutes when suddenly the cell door burst open, and as the advocatus and the witch looked back they saw the tall figure of an auror outlined against the pale torch-light of the hallway. "What is the meaning of this?" the man roared. Eleanor could not recall ever having seen a more remarkably disfigured person. His face showed a spectacular assortment of scars, half his nose was missing and while one of his eyes fixed on them with an angry glare, the other one, of a striking blue color, roved around the cell like a chameleon's.

Tethering approached the man calmly. "Ah, Alastor Moody," he said coolly. "I see they are running short on aurors. Now they are even reactivating the retired ones…"

"Tethering!" The auror literally spat out the name. "You have no right to be sneaking in here. This time you won't be cutting plush little deals for your Death Eater clients. You and your associates are the kind of filthy vermin that makes money off keeping us from ridding the world of Voldemort. You disgust me!"

The advocatus held out the permit. "I hope you can still read," he smirked. "Signed by the Unspeakable Soren. We have every right to be here. You, on the other hand had no right interrogating my client under Veritaserum without me present and about anything but the battle at the Ministry. You still have no right to keep him under these conditions, either. And the authorities will hear about this. Now kindly step outside, see that this cell is de-hexed, get a key for that iron collar and let me do my job. Always remember: innocent until proven guilty."

The auror turned dark crimson at those words. "Innocent," he shouted. "Have you seen the interrogation protocols? Have you seen what this man has confessed to, the cursing, the torturing, the killing?" Eleanor watched as the advocatus merely shrugged his shoulders. "I am afraid I am solely interested in the current case. My client's private life is of no concern to me." He turned his back on Auror Moody and continued to confer with Lucius.

"Get them out of here," commanded the auror and the two younger guards approached cautiously. Eleanor decided to intervene, to buy Tethering more time as he was whispering to his client. "Sir, we really have a permit to be here, and the advocatus is within his legal rights." She felt she was half-choking on her words, knowing that they only got Soren's signature, because Lucius had set young Asphodela on him, and they had blackmailed the Unspeakable with the incriminating evidence.

"Who are you? You're not Mrs. Malfoy," said Moody, looking her over with a sneer. "Why are you here?" She drew herself up. "I'm of Mr. Malfoy's acquaintance. I am helping the advocatus with information." Moody leaned in on her. "I wouldn't boast about that, if I were you," he growled at her. "You'll find these days acquaintance with the Malfoys doesn't quite cut it the way it used to."

Eleanor knew she was merely stalling, but took a step forward and stared the auror squarely in the face. "Are you threatening me, sir? I am not a Death Eater," she said with forced calm. She pulled her sleeve back from her left forearm. "I don't much care for your attitude." The auror snorted at her. "Nor do I care for yours. You don't have to be a Death Eater to do the Dark Lord's work. Now get out, both of you, before I have you forcibly removed."

Eleanor felt a light tap on her shoulder. It was Tethering. "We are done," he told her quietly then added in a louder tone for the benefit of the aurors. "We are not leaving until my client's conditions match legal regulations." He folded his arms across his chest and stood next to Lucius, who had watched the exchange with cool amusement. Eleanor joined him, finding that the aggression and defiance that swept the room was infinitely preferable to the black and sticky morass of despair that had her in its grip only a little while earlier. A sideways glance at her lover showed her that he seemed more energized as well.

"Fine," growled Moody. "Have it your way. Brannock, Murnwort, seize them and walk them to the courtyard. Now!"

The male auror strode up to Tethering who started to protest loudly, and just then Eleanor felt Lucius move towards her so their bodies touched. He leaned in on her. "Thank you, Eleanor," he said quietly. Then she felt a hard object being pressed into her hand. "See if you can talk to my son. Give him this. Tell him to remember that he's a Malfoy, tell him to be brave and to be careful. Tell him…" She felt the hands of the female auror touch her. "Professor?" "…tell him – I love him."

She allowed herself to be moved from the cell, but looked behind her to see Lucius stand forward as far as his collar would allow him. He carried himself upright and with pride. "I will," she called back at him. "I won't give up."

* * *

Eleanor blinked in the sudden sunlight as she stepped into the busy side-street outside the Ministry of Magic. Beside her Advocatus Tethering moved out of the way of a bicycle courier who was coming at them at breakneck speed. "Well, that was fun," he declared with a grin and cracked his knuckles. She stared at him in surprise.

They had just reapparated at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and handed in their Azkaban portkey. Earlier the two aurors under the command of Alastor Moody had marched them back into the central courtyard of the prison and had made them return to London. All the while Tethering had quoted procedure at them and protested loudly, and by the time they had reached the open, a whole throng of guards and curious aurors had followed them, while locked-up prisoners had banged on the insides of their cell doors. Auror Moody had looked as if he was suffering from an imminent aneurism, and she had anticipated getting hexed at any moment.

"I don't know about you," continued the Advocatus, "but I need chocolate, lots of it. Best thing in the world to get over a _tristitia_ spell." Eleanor considered. They still had a lot to talk about, so she nodded. "Sure, where to?" she asked. Tethering pulled out his wand. "_Silver Teapot_, in Diagon Alley." He had barely spoken the words, when he had already disapparated.

She caught up with him outside the small café and they picked a table facing the street. As she settled in and studied the menu, she remembered another warm and sunny summer day when she had first met Lucius Malfoy in this very spot six years ago. She had been in better company then, sitting with Professors McGonagal and Sprout, not with a seedy, dubious lawyer, who thought nothing of bribery and employed a vampire.

A few minutes later a buxom witch in poison-green robes walked over to them, and greeted Tethering. "Marcellus, how are you? Haven't seen you in ages! How's business?" The advocatus grinned at her. "Oh, Matilda, it's picking up, I tell you. Nothing like some good Death Eater raids to get us going. Anyway, here's a client right now. Professor Eleanor Sartorius – Matilda Figgs, owner of the _Silver Teapot_. Eleanor, allow me to order for both of us. The item is not on the menu, but you'll love it. Matilda, we'll need two of your excellent Dementor Specials."

The witch shook her head. "Been in Azkaban again," she said. "I thought it was better now that the Dementors had left." Tethering shook his head. "They still have some of the cells hexed. Keep buying chocolate, Matilda."

The proprietor of the _Silver Teapot_ left with their order, and Tethering leaned back watching the passers-by. He seemed very relaxed and at ease, and Eleanor decided that his belligerence at the prison had most likely been an act. "So, what's the deal with Desdemona?" she asked, just to make conversation.

Tethering cast a sharp glance in her direction, then shrugged his shoulders. "She was one of the most celebrated muggle courtesans in 1750s London. Belisarius met her at a ball he was attending, and got quite infatuated with her. She became his mistress, and after a few years, as he realized how quickly she aged, he asked a vampire acquaintance to turn her. Now it's most likely she'll outlive him. Well, outexist him, after all she's legally dead, of course."

Eleanor considered. "No problems with the Ministry about employing a vampire?" she asked. "Don't see why," replied the advocatus. "We've had her way before there even were rules regarding vampires. And if someone wanted to make an issue out of it, Mr. Malfoy isn't the only wizard with a little black book…" She forced a smile. "I should have guessed," she said.

Just then Matilda Figgs came back with a huge enchanted tray floating before her and started putting plates and cups in front of them. Soon Eleanor was staring at an enormous piece of seven-layered dark chocolate cake with chocolate icing, chocolate sprinkles and chocolate sauce, a bowl of chocolate ice cream and a pint-sized mug steaming with hot chocolate milk. The older witch patted her on the shoulder. "There, there, luv, that'll have you sorted in no time. And if you need more, just let me know."

Eleanor stared at her food in disbelief. This would feed five house-elves for two years. Reluctantly she picked up a spoon to try the ice cream. Tethering had already sunk his fork into the cake and started shoveling chocolate in his face. For the next twenty minutes he was completely oblivious to any attempts at conversation.

Eleanor watched in amazement as he actually managed to put away the entire Dementor Special, while she had to admit to defeat half-way through her cake. Still, she realized that she felt much better than before and wished she'd had the foresight to take some chocolate to Azkaban with her. It would have done Lucius some good.

Eventually Tethering leaned back and stretched his legs. "Ah, perfect," he sighed and closed his eyes. Eleanor pushed back her plate. "So, you mentioned some good and some bad news, when we apparated in Azkaban," she said. "What else is going on?" The advocatus briefly opened one eye.

"Well, the trial is set for the 25th of June. That's in about a week. We'll definitely get Mr. Malfoy's confessions suppressed, because we have the leverage we need. We also definitely have three of the judges committed to voting for exile. The public interrogator assigned to the case is a rather uncharismatic and pedantic bore who won't do much to sway opinion. We can walk all over him. All that is very reassuring, but here's the problem: Albus Dumbledore just got himself reinstated as chief of the wizengamot for this case. I guess Fudge felt he owed him."

She considered. "We need Dumbledore on our side," she said. "He'll be able to make this case go the way he wants, no matter how much blackmail we have going for us. He just has that kind of authority." Tethering finally opened both eyes and looked at her. "You may have noticed, he is not mentioned in Mr. Malfoy's book," he told her. "I don't see why he would want to support us. In fact he's probably our greatest obstacle to getting what we want." Eleanor pursed her lips. "I'll handle Dumbledore," she promised the advocatus.

The wizard snorted. "Yeah, famous last words. Last time I heard that, Mr. Malfoy had just got the guy suspended from his post as headmaster and was boasting to me. A few days later Malfoy was himself dismissed from the board of governors in disgrace. I tell you, you don't want to mess with the man."

Eleanor nodded. "I won't mess with him, and I won't try and threaten him. But I have something that he might want very much. I could sell it to him for the price of exile." Tethering shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself," he said. "If nothing else, it'll be amusing."

Just then Matilda Figgs reappeared with the bill. Tethering closed his eyes again. "You'll get that, right?" he asked. Eleanor sighed and pulled a galleon and several sickles from her belt-purse. "Naturally," she said. "I would not expect anything else from a self-respecting advocatus." She paid the witch and got ready to leave. The lawyer hadn't moved at all. "Let me know of your progress with Dumbledore," he said, eyes still shut. "I'll owl you if anything else happens."

Eleanor gathered her robes, got up and slowly walked down the street to Eeylops Owl Emporium. They had a small postal service on the side, and she needed to send a message to Wiltshire, and another one to Scotland.


	10. A Barter

**A Barter**

_"'Tis pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures; And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dext'rous; … all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices." (Lord Byron, Don Juan canto V, st. 27)  
  
_

Sunlight was dancing on the leaves of the Forbidden Forest and made the old gnarled trees look almost inviting as Eleanor apparated outside the magical wards of Hogwarts. In the distance she could see Hagrit's hut with a wisp of smoke escaping from its tall chimney. It seemed the Care of Magical Creatures teacher was busy cooking dinner.

Now at the height of summer it was still light so far in the north, even this late, but if she wanted to make her meeting with the headmaster, she had to hurry. She cast one last glance behind her into the forest and set out for the old grey ramparts of the castle.

The tall wooden gate of the school was closed, but as she rang the bell, the scruffy, gaunt form of Mr. Filch appeared, Mrs. Norris in tow, and he let her in. "Professor Sartorius," he said. "Haven't seen you in a long time. The headmaster is already waiting for you. Go right along. The password for the steps is 'ginger snaps'." She thanked the janitor and walked down the now deserted familiar corridors and up the spiral staircase leading up to Dumbledore's office.

Golden sunlight filled the tall oval room and she found the old wizard sitting in a deep comfortable chair by the unlit fireplace sipping tea and deep in conversation with Professor Snape, who was dressed in his customary long black robes, despite the warm summer weather. The two men got up to greet her, and Snape pulled up another chair. Dumbledore poured her some tea and offered his customary sweet treats, which she refused. She didn't feel her negotiations would be improved by having to talk around a large glob of extra sticky honey toffee cementing her teeth.

Snape also declined the toffee, and Dumbledore helped himself. "So, Eleanor, you owled me that you wanted to see me to discuss an important matter. How can I help you?" She licked her lips. She dreaded this part of the conversation above all else. "Well, I am here because I would like to make a proposal with the regards to the recent arrest of Mr. Malfoy." There, now she'd said it. She regarded both men warily, and while Snape had sat up very straight at her words, Dumbledore hadn't moved a muscle. His expression was unreadable to her.

Finally he swallowed his toffee and spoke. "Hm, Lucius Malfoy. So even after six years you are still tied up with the man. Must be fate." She folded her hands, feeling nervous. "You made my fate, Albus," she replied, forcing calm into her voice. "You put me in his path. You used us both to prevent the rising of Voldemort the first time round. Fate served you well then." He nodded, remembering the events six years ago. "But now Voldemort has risen. Lucius Malfoy stands accused as a Death Eater, he has attacked students of this school, and a man got killed. Things have changed quite a bit, haven't they?"

She nodded reluctantly. "For you and for him, yes. But not for me." Dumbledore still didn't show much of a reaction, but now his blue eyes seemed to look right through her. "What would you have me do?" he asked, his voice neutral. "You are the chief judge of the wizengamot in his upcoming trial," she said. "How will you judge?"

The old wizard stroked his hand over his beard. "That, Eleanor, is none of your concern." She took a deep breath. "I would like to concern myself with it, nonetheless. And I have something that may make it our shared concern."

Dumbledore nodded. "You want to bribe me. He has rubbed off on you quite a bit, hasn't he? I am truly sorry to see that. And I do feel responsible after a fashion." He paused, giving her an appraising look. "Do you think you can bribe me?"

Eleanor felt blood rise to her cheeks with shame. She had never thought she would be having this conversation with a man like the headmaster of Hogwarts. Still, she had come here for a purpose and she intended to stick to her guns.

"As you remarked earlier, Voldemort has risen again, and people are dying. I have something that will tip the scales in your favor and protect those that are entrusted to you. I am still not working for the Dark Lord, and I would sincerely hope that what I know can be used against him. If you want to call it a bribe so be it. But I propose to do you a favor and would ask for some leniency in return."

Dumbledore reached for another toffee, seemingly unperturbed by the conversation. "What do you have to offer," he asked calmly. Eleanor got up and smoothed down her robes. "Perhaps Professor Snape would care to assist me?" she suggested. The potions master had followed the exchange with a scowl of disapproval and now opened his mouth to protest, but the old wizard held out his hand. "Why not? Severus, if you would be so kind."

Snape huffed, but got up and faced her. His dark eyes bored into her, and she was sure that if it weren't for the headmaster, he would offer her a rather large and unpleasant piece of his mind. She walked a few paces away from him and unsheathed her wand. "I would like for you to cast an unforgivable at me, Severus. Which one is up to you."

She got some grim satisfaction out of watching the potions master take a surprised step back. His mouth twisted in a sneer. "What is this? Are you trying to get a cell-mate for Lucius?" he asked. She bit her lip. "I could think of more cheerful company," she replied. "No, I really need you to cast a curse for what I'm about to show you. I promise you, nothing will happen."

Snape looked back at Dumbledore, who simply shrugged his shoulders. "Why not, Severus, humor her," he said. The professor faced her again, his face grim. "You are sure about this?" he asked, looking actually a bit concerned. Eleanor nodded. "As sure as I've ever been of anything, Severus. Hit me." She watched Snape pull out his wand, and was hardly surprised when he incanted. "_Imperio_!" Of the three unforgivables, it was the least damaging spell.

A moment later she observed the exchange from a spot 10 feet above the floor standing on tiptoe on one of the girders that adorned the high vaulted ceiling of the office. Severus was staring intently at a slender, red-headed grey-clad imago that faced him four steps apart, wand at the ready. She watched the spell play out, and as soon as the aftereffects had faded, she switched back. Snape was staring at her. "Hop on one foot," he commanded her. "And enumerate the geomantic figures backwards."

She gave him a broad smile. "I think not," she said cheerfully and watched Snape's jaw drop in a look of complete und utter astonishment. He compressed his lips and lifted his wand again. "_Imperio_!" he shouted, really meaning it this time. She had to hurry rather quickly this time to get out of the way. However, as the potions master reiterated his command, he found the results were exactly the same. He turned halfway back towards Dumbledore, staring at his wand, as if he expected it to be broken or otherwise damaged. "What in Merlin's name…?"

Eleanor smiled. Her relentless practice over the past few weeks had paid off. "Give me a _cruciatus_, Severus," she demanded. This time her former colleague needed much more persuasion. When he eventually consented, he looked faintly sick. She faced him and relaxed her body. "Gods," he murmured, disgust coloring his voice. "_Crucio_!" She performed the switch with routine speed, noticing that Snape had cast a rather weak and very short spell. She was glad to see that despite her attempts at bribery, he wasn't too intent on hurting her.

Back in her old position and displaying no signs of pain and discomfort she actually noticed a brief look of relief on the potions master's face before he stepped up to her. "What are you doing? How…? Why…?" He put a hand on her wand. "This is impossible!"

She looked at him. "No it's not. Want to try the killing curse next?" Snape shook his head. "No. Sorry. You'll probably survive that as well, but I really don't want to find out for sure." He looked stubbornly determined right now, and Eleanor knew him well enough to be certain that no argument would sway him.

She turned towards the headmaster. "Well, Albus, this is my offer. Defense against the unforgivables, including the killing curse." She was pleased to notice that Dumbledore had finally snapped out of his apparent apathetic calm and sat on the edge of his seat watching her. He looked decidedly interested. "You would not allow me to examine your wand, now, would you?" he asked.

Eleanor smiled and returned to her seat. "Hardly," she said. Dumbledore leaned back. "What do you want for this?" he said quietly. His eyes shone with a strange light she had never seen in them before, and she realized with a jolt that the old wizard was fighting very hard to repress an almighty fury. She understood that his previous calm had come from his decision to hear her out, but to enter into no deal with her. Now, however, she had made him consider her bribe, and he hated himself and her for it.

Eleanor felt a great sadness well up inside her. She had always liked and admired the headmaster, and had it been up to her, she would have willingly shared what she knew with him for free. But when she thought back to the despair she had felt when she had seen Lucius in Azkaban, she knew she had no other choice. She would not willingly abandon her lover to imprisonment or death.

She was disgusted with herself for making Dumbledore stoop to being bought like this. But she knew at that moment that she had won. The stakes were too high, even for him, to let personal pride get in the way of defeating their arch-enemy. For a moment she considered, watching absentmindedly as Snape returned to his seat. "I want a judgment of exile for Lucius Malfoy," she finally said.

Both men regarded her with lifted eyebrows. Then Dumbledore gave her a curt nod. "You surprise me," he said. "You give up a lot for very little in return." She shook her head. "No I am not. Regardless of the outcome of the trial, I ultimately want you to know what I know in order to fight Voldemort, the murderer of my kin. Despite what you think of me, I wish for you to succeed in your struggle. But I don't want to see Lucius executed or imprisoned for life." The headmaster nodded. "I might have judged like you wish me to anyway," he said. "Or do you think that I want the blood of another man on my hands?"

She sighed. "I need to be sure," she confessed. "Others may want him dead. He has done terrible things." Dumbledore looked at her intently. "And do you forgive him for it? Knowing what you know?" She suddenly found herself unable to meet his gaze. "Yes," she said quietly. "For what he has done for me. For what he means to me."

The old wizard leaned forward. "Why?" he asked. His voice seemed gentle now, as if his anger had passed through him and been simply discarded. She dared to look up again and took a deep breath. "Because I love him," she said slowly, surprising herself at the absolute sense of truth and certainty she felt as she uttered the words she had never spoken before. She heard Snape by her side snort in disgust, but the headmaster looked at her with understanding and concern.

"Perhaps fate is having more of a hand in this than I ever imagined," he said. "I will judge as you wish, not because of what you offer, but because you told me the truth." He got up and stood before her. "When will you tell me how you defend yourself?" he asked. She rose to meet him. "When the judgment has been spoken. I will send word to you, or I will tell you in person, however you prefer." Dumbledore nodded. "Very well, Eleanor. I accept your offer and I will give you what you desire. Now go." She bowed to him, not trusting him to shake her hand if she offered it.

On her way out she briefly paused before Snape. "I have a request to make of you as well. Not for myself this time. I believe Draco to be in danger because of the confession Lucius was forced to make in prison. Lucius is convinced that Voldemort will seek revenge and threaten his family. You are Draco's head of house. Please keep him safe. He has no part in his father's crimes. He should not be made to suffer for them." Snape regarded her gravely, then nodded. "I will see to it," he promised.

* * *

Eleanor walked away from the castle back towards the forest, fighting down the nauseating self-loathing she felt at having succeeded in buying the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, after a fashion. She took no pride in having secured Albus Dumbledore's promise of judging in Lucius Malfoy's favor. When she had passed beyond the apparition wards that surrounded Hogwarts she spoke a quick spell and materialized outside the _Three Broomsticks_ in Hogsmeade for her next appointment.

As she looked around she paused in astonishment. The place was crowded with wizards and witches in festive robes and flower crowns on their heads. Lights hung everywhere, in the trees and from the fronts of the houses. Enchanted fireflies buzzed up and down the narrow streets. Then she remembered: of course, it was the 21st of June, Litha, Midsummer.

She made her way through the throngs of revelers, avoiding dancers and tipsy couples, until she had passed through the pub and stood on the back porch overlooking a small enclosed beer garden behind the house. People sat on benches in small groups, talking, listening to a harp, drum and crumhorn band and drinking Madam Rosmerta's special Midsummer mead. A moment later she saw him. He sat by himself in a corner, and stared into a frothy mug of butterbeer. He had not noticed her yet, and she took a moment to study him.

He had grown since she'd last met him about a year ago at the manor. Now at fifteen he was as tall as his father, and he had begun to grow his white-blond hair out, which already reached to his shoulders. It was neatly tied back with a narrow velvet band, further accentuating the family resemblance. He wore his dark green velvet robes with the same air of negligent elegance that she knew so well from the elder Malfoy.

"Draco," she said quietly as she approached him, and he looked up. His lips curled in an angry sneer. "Oh, father's bit of ass on the side," he drawled. "My Midsummer date. Am I pleased to see you!" She sighed, having expected a welcome very much like this. During their last encounter Lucius had actually seen fit to chastise his son before her eyes for his insolent behavior. She had secretly sympathized with Draco. If the boy had any feelings of love or loyalty towards his mother he had every right to resent her.

Still, she was too tired and her errant too urgent to let her try and humor the teenager's attitude. She sat down opposite him. "Yeah, look who's talking," she said coldly. "The arrested Death Eater's son." Draco drew himself up for a reply, but she waved her hand. "Let's cut the pleasantries. You're upset about your father and me, that's your prerogative as your mother's son, but before you get wrapped up in your righteous indignation, go and look up Mr. Hubertus Yarrow. You remember him? Your tutor before you went to Hogwarts? He runs a prep-school for young wizards in Hampshire these days. Ask him what he did with your mother once he was finished with your lessons for the day. You know he was so upset when she broke up with him, he may actually tell you all the juicy details."

"How dare you, you…" Draco turned white with fury. Eleanor sighed and put her hand on her wand in warning. "Let's not call each other names, okay. There is no dare involved. I just told you. Your parents have had an open marriage for many years now. In just a little over a year you will be of age, so get a grip and face the facts. Once you are handfasted yourself you have a chance to do it all differently and much better."

The younger Malfoy sat back, hatred in his grey eyes, but he kept quiet. Eleanor removed her fingers from her wand and pulled out the article Lucius had given her as she had left his cell in Azkaban. She held it out so it caught the light from the torches and heard Draco gasp in surprise. "My father's signet ring! The Malfoy crest. You really saw him?"

Eleanor handed the ring to him, considered for a moment, and decided to drop any barriers and pretense and give Lucius' message to his son as best she could. "Have you learned _legilimency_ yet?" she asked. Draco laughed. "Not from my incompetent teachers, thanks to our idiotic headmaster, but my father taught me." She sighed. "Very well, I have no intention of entertaining you with tales that you'll probably only half believe anyway. I'm ready. Help yourself."

Draco lifted his left eyebrow in a manner that reminded her very much of Lucius. "Are you serious?" he asked. She sighed. "Look young man, so far I have had a week from hell, I'm forced to work with a couple of lawyers who would sell their grandmothers for a fee and mooch chocolate cake off me, I've got propositioned by a vampire, spent half a day in a lice-infested _tristitia_-hexed cell in Azkaban and nearly got assaulted by Auror Moody. Now I've just had a cheerful meeting with your headmaster and your potions professor, I'm still reeling from an earful of insults from a snooty fifteen-year-old, it's late, I'm tired and I'm sick of playing games. I promised your father I'd meet with you and give you a message from him. So I suggest you get on with it."

The young wizard nodded, caught her eyes and murmured: "_Legilimens_." She returned his gaze, shielded her mind from him with the exception of her memories of the prison visit and let him read her. He used more force than was necessary, but despite a certain degree of inexperience and clumsiness she felt the keen mental powers he possessed. He was good at mind control, his father had taught him well, and with the appropriate schooling he would go far.

A few minutes later Draco lowered his lids and released the connection. His voice trembled when he spoke to her. "He said that?" he asked quietly. "Said what?" she asked. He stammered now. "Th-that he, that he loved me?" Eleanor nodded. "Yeah, he seemed as embarrassed about it as you are now. I guess you guys don't talk about that much, hm?"

Draco looked up at her. For a moment his face looked small and vulnerable. "Never, he never told me…" Then he caught himself and his mask of cool self-possession slipped back in place. "No matter," he said. "Thanks for giving me the message, though."

He twisted the signet ring between his fingers, then put it on. A searching glance out of pale grey eyes hit her. Again she was reminded of the keen, penetrating gaze of his father. "You really care for him, don't you?" he asked, and she could not hear anything of his former arrogance in his voice. "I would not be here, otherwise," she admitted.

Draco nodded and seemed to consider for a moment as if he was reliving her memories. "No, not care," he said slowly, looking at her in surprise now. "You – you love him." Eleanor glared at him. He was a hell of a better _legilimens_ than she had given him credit for. "Be careful now, Draco, before you go too far. Love is not an option. Not for me, and not for your father. He is of the old houses, and he will never revoke the commitment he made to your mother. Nor should he."

The young wizard shrugged his shoulders. "Have it your way," he said brusquely. "Anyway, I'm – I'm sorry for what I said earlier, okay? I guess you're doing more to help him than my Mum." He paused. "Do you think they'll kill him?" he asked, sounding suddenly frightened.

She considered for a moment. "They might try to," she admitted. "But I think we have a very good chance that he will be exiled – at least for a while, until we can contest the sentence." Draco stared at her. "They'd take away his powers and force him to be a muggle? That's horrible!"

Eleanor nodded. "Yes, it is, but it's better than getting executed or being locked up in that dreadful prison cell. You've seen the memories, you felt what it is like to be in there. If he's out in the muggle world, I can help him. I've got contacts. He'll be all right. I promise." Draco sighed. "He'll go apeshit," he said with surprising frankness. "Father hates muggles."

She couldn't suppress a snicker. "Yeah, I wouldn't have put it quite that way, but you have a point. Muggles, beware!" Now Malfoy junior grinned, too, at least for a moment, until the gravity of the situation caught up with him again.

Just then a waitress came by, and Eleanor ordered a glass of mead. When the woman had left, she leaned in to talk to Draco again. "One more thing," she said. "What you did tonight, respond to an owl and come alone and unprotected to a location to meet someone you barely know, I don't want you to do that, ever, again!"

The young wizard stared at her. "Why?" She sighed. "Draco, your father thinks that the Death Eaters are now your enemies. He was forced to give away the Dark Lord's secrets, and he thinks they will want revenge for his betrayal. They may want to kill not just him, but you and your mother as well. You know they take out whole families, just to make a point. You are in grave danger." She had his full attention now. Obviously he knew enough about his father's associates to take her warning seriously.

"Stay home as much as you can and ensure that the place is properly warded, even see if they would take you back in at school over the summer. Perhaps Professor Snape can be persuaded. He's promised me to help you. Talk to him. The school has one of the best ward systems in the wizarding world. Use whatever your father taught you about defense." She dug in her pocket and pulled out a narrow leather band with a small gold pendant like a coin inscribed with a twelve-rayed star and magical runes.

"I made and enchanted this talisman a while ago. It will alert you to anyone with evil intentions towards you if you wear it. It will turn cold on your skin as an enemy approaches." The young wizard took the amulet from her and his lips curved in an amused sneer. "I'll get permanent frostbite," he joked. "Every bloody Gryffindor is going to set it off…" But he fastened the thin leather strip around his neck and slipped the pendant underneath his robes. "Thanks," he said. "This was your idea, or my father's?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I teach Defense against the Dark Arts at Durmstrang," she said. "Your father told me you are in danger. It's the least I could do. A full-time wizard body-guard would be better." Draco looked at her. "I don't need a baby-sitter," he declared. She gave him an appraising look. "No, I guess you don't," she said. "Just don't take any candy from strangers."

The waitress came back with the mead, and Eleanor was surprised to hear Draco order another butterbeer. She would have thought that he'd try to get away from her as soon as he could. She took a sip of her drink and raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. "Hanging out with an elderly witch on Midsummer evening?" she quipped. "Bummer!"

He picked up his beer and shrugged his shoulders. "You know, I couldn't believe it, when they arrested him. I always thought…" he broke off, considered. "I always thought he was impervious, perfect, unreachable. Now he's in prison. I mean, I saw what he looks like in your memories. He's a wreck!"

The young wizard paused, checked himself and then seemed to come to a decision. Suddenly he leaned forward and just started talking. Eleanor began to realize what he had kept bottled up inside for the last few weeks. "You know, it still hasn't really sunk in. But there's no one I can talk to. Mum is holed up with this lawyer of hers all day long. First I thought she was working on helping father, but I asked her, and she won't give me a straight answer. I don't think she's bothered about him. After all, you got to see him, she didn't. You're the first one I've met who gives a damn. Everyone else treats us like we are lepers.

I'm – I'm scared, I don't know what to do. He's always been there. He's always looked out for Mum and me. He's always told me what to do, who to be, to take pride in our family. And now he could die for what he did, what he believes in. And people think we are worse than muggles."

Eleanor looked at Lucius' son. Her earlier annoyance at his insolence had given way to pity. "Look Draco. I'm not going to make it sound better than it is. Your father has hit rock bottom and right now, you're on your own. You may think that's unfair, but you'll have to live with it for now, just as your father has had to live with the choices of his father.

I can't tell you what to do, because I'm not sure exactly what to do myself. My advice is, confide in Professor Snape. He knows your father, and I believe he wants the best for you. Owl me, if you need me. I'm on your father's side, and on yours. Other than that, I'd advise you, trust no one. Better paranoid than betrayed or dead, Draco."


	11. The Trial

**The Trial**

_"Dove son leggi, Tremar non de hi leggi non infranse. - Where there are laws, he who has not broken them need not tremble."(Vittorio Alfieri)_

Lucius Malfoy was woken by a loud bang. For a moment he groped blindly for his wand in order to curse the impudent house-elf who had dared to disturb him, then he remembered where he was. There were no house-elves in Azkaban, and he certainly did not have his wand. There was no bloody point to getting up either. He contemplated just playing dead for a while, but finally curiosity won out and he opened his eyes with a sigh.

He looked up at aurors Moody and Tonks, who were standing in front of his bunk and stared down at him. "Hello Uncle Lucius," said Tonks. He bared his teeth. "Don't you dare uncle me, you insolent mudblood," he snarled at his niece. "If it weren't for you and your miserable friends, I would not be here." The auror shifted a piece of bubblegum into her other cheek and smiled. "And a good thing, too," she told him. "Anyway, we're here to get you all dolled up. Today's your big day. Gotta go to the wizengamot to get your wrists slapped for being a bad Death Eater."

"Sit up," commanded Moody and bent down to unlock the iron collar. Lucius ran his hands along the raw skin on his bare neck, stood up and stretched. He had almost forgotten what it felt like not to have that damnable thing weighing him down. "Okay," said Tonks. "Come with me. We'll get you cleaned and back into the robes that you came in." She turned. "By the way, don't try anything," she warned him over her shoulder.

Lucius shook his head. "Try what, mudblood? Curse you? Escape? Come on, how stupid do you think I am?" "Oh, moderately stupid, I'd say," she replied. "Otherwise you'd think twice about calling people names when they have a wand and you don't." They walked down the corridor outside his cell in silence. He was annoyed at feeling actually grateful, but to be free of the _tristitia_ spells and able to walk further than six paces seemed like pure bliss. Moody left them after telling Tonks he'd be waiting in the courtyard.

A little further down the hallway the young witch opened an unbarred door and Lucius followed her into a small room filled with shelves and boxes, where another auror was waiting for them. "There's a bathroom over there," said Tonks. "We'll just get your stuff."

When Lucius got back he caught the end of an animated conversation between the two aurors. "Well, I won't do the scrubbing," said the man. "Me neither," replied Tonks. "I guess it's got to be spellwork after all." Before the wizard had time to object, two wands were raised at him and it rained incantations. The first _vestimentascedo_ had his prison uniform lying on the floor by his feet. "_Depediculosus_!" shouted Tonks over his hollered protest. "_Detergeo_!", "_Capillavo_!"

Eventually Lucius just gave up. He put his fists on his hips and simply endured the barrage of cleaning magic that crawled over his skin. Finally Tonks released a last "_Ungues concisio_!" and lowered her wand with a flourish. She looked over at the other auror. "Hey, what you think you're doing, Will? Change that back at once!" she said.

Lucius looked down at himself in alarm, only to find that a strand of hair that fell to the side of his face as he did so was now colored a deep electric blue. After weeks of humiliation and abuse this was too much provocation to bear. He suddenly didn't care that he was naked and unarmed. He simply wanted to wring the man's neck for his insolence.

"Uh, _coloreverso_!" cried the auror in alarm, just as the wizard caught up with him. Tonks jabbed the tip of her wand at Lucius' chest. "Sorry uncle," she said. "Sometimes happens with hair cleaning spells. I'm sure it was just an honest mistake." Lucius clenched his teeth. By Azrael, he had never missed his wand more. "Yes, sure!" he snarled.

Tonks reached behind her and offered a parcel of black cloth to him. "Here's your stuff," she said, obviously intent on making peace. Lucius shook out the garments. "My old Death Eater robes," he said unbelieving. "You're really going to make me wear those?"

His niece shrugged her shoulders and blew a gum bubble at him. "That's what you were wearing when you came in. Obviously you weren't ashamed putting them on to go after Harry, so you should wear them in court with the same pride." He flinched in disgust at his relative's filthy muggle habits and bent to put on his pants, boots, shirt and coat. Then he carefully layered his robes on top. If he was going to go before the court wearing his crimes on his sleeve, so to speak, he'd at least look as dignified as possible doing it.

Finally he turned to the two aurors, tossing back his hair. "I am ready," he said. Tonks grinned at him. "Hardly," she said, but they walked him out of the dim corridors and into the central sunlit courtyard, where Alastor Moody was waiting with a Ministry portkey.

* * *

After a brief moment of disorientation Lucius found himself standing in a torch-lit circular space surrounded by steep tiers of stone benches on all sides. A hushed murmur of voices rose towards the high domed ceiling above him and swelled in volume as people became aware of his presence.

He cast a quick glance around to orient himself, then lifted his chin in defiance and stared straight ahead without betraying any emotion. 'Déja-vu,' he thought, despising those who had come to watch and gloat. He had stood in that very same spot fifteen years ago, and he had made it out unscathed. He would play them all yet again.

The aurors had taken their place on either side of him and behind him and walked him forward towards a high-backed chair in the center of the room. At their command he sat down and felt chains on the legs and armrests of the seat snake up, encircle his wrists and ankles and bind him fast. After that his guards left him and disappeared into the shadows of the high chamber. Tonks did not speak to him again.

He felt anger and outrage at being deprived of movement yet again, at his peers not even trusting him to have the self-discipline to stay in his seat, but there was nothing he could do about it. He made an effort to suppress any outward reaction. He would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him either furious or despondent.

As his eyes adjusted to the light he found that if he raised his head he faced the still empty judges' bench. Off to the side was a separate seating box for witnesses where he saw Harry Potter and the children that had been part of the battle at the Department of Mysteries. He also recognized the werewolf. They were regarding him gravely and speaking to each other. Over the heads of some of the other children he met Potter's serious green eyes with an icy stare of his own and had the satisfaction of seeing the boy lower his lids and look away.

He glanced further along the tiers of seats and found Narcissa and Draco. His impeccably dressed wife was looking down at him sidelong with an unreadable expression, but Draco was leaning forward, and lifted his hand in a timid wave as he met his father's eyes. He looked exhausted and nervous. Lucius also caught a glimpse of the Malfoy signet ring and realized that Eleanor had obviously had a chance to talk to his son. He was relieved to see him still alive. It seemed that Voldemort had not yet made a successful move against his family.

Next to Narcissa he spotted Ambrosius Greenleaf, the advocatus. Strangely enough the young wizard was wearing his formal robes as if he was attending in some official capacity. He avoided Lucius' eyes and turned to Narcissa instead for a whispered comment. She seemed to assent to what he was saying.

Lucius locked eyes with Draco once more, and then continued his survey of the room. On the other side of the judges' bench he saw Eleanor. She sat by herself, her red curls tied up away from her face and wearing a high-collared blue tunic and cloak. She met his glance openly and held it, and he saw a small encouraging smile play around the corners of her mouth as she nodded at him and mouthed his name.

Advocatus Tethering was nowhere to be seen, but Lucius recognized Fudge and a host of Ministry officials staring down at him. The general atmosphere in the courtroom felt very hostile.

Just then an auror walked into the center of the room. "All guests and members of the court rise for the judges," he called loudly. There was a general scuffle and rustle of robes as everyone stood up and the seven presiding judges walked in. They took their seats on the bench with three of them flanking Albus Dumbledore on either side. A little after that the Public Interrogator and Advocatus Tethering entered and both took their places in the arena. The auror left and closed the heavy, creaking doors of the courtroom, taking his position before them. The session had finally started.

Lucius looked at the Interrogator clad in his blood-red official robes as he opened proceedings with the speech of accusation. "Wizards and witches of the magical community of Great Britain. Before you stands Mr. Lucius Malfoy, accused of attempted robbery of a prophecy at the Department of Mysteries, accused of the reckless endangerment of under-age wizards and witches, and accused of conspiracy with You-Know-Who. To these grave accusations, how do you plead?"

The man stepped back and ceded the floor to Advocatus Tethering robed in black with the deep emerald green surplice of defense, who briefly acknowledged his client and then stood facing the panel of judges.

"Honorable judges," he said with a deep bow to the bench. "On behalf of my client I am authorized to plead guilty on all three charges." The Interrogator looked rather dumbstruck and the chamber erupted with excited babble, until Dumbledore brought down the gavel with in a series of loud cracks and commanded silence. "However," continued Tethering. "In the following proceedings we will point out a series of extenuating circumstances that we hope will have a bearing on your judgment."

The Interrogator next took his former place and began reading extracts from Lucius' Azkaban confessions. He spoke in a rather unmodulated monotone and the blond wizard, tired and exhausted from his imprisonment found his mind wander as he relived the interrogations. He heard again the events from the battle at the Ministry, and if anything, he felt relief that obviously Tethering had done excellent work and had managed to have the rest of his statements suppressed for the trial. He vaguely recalled some of the things he had revealed to the aurors and knew they would have earned him an immediate death sentence.

While he listened with only half his attention engaged, he watched Eleanor, who now leaned forward in her seat, paying close attention. She had clasped her hands so tightly that her knuckles were outlined in white against her skin, and Lucius wondered whether she was feeling distress at having to hear his frank admission of his crimes. He was still surprised how after his arrest she had stepped up to his side as a matter of course. Loyalty born from anything but fear was not a gift he had received very often in his life.

Finally the Interrogator came to the end of his excerpts and now launched into a made-up diatribe against the crimes of the accused. Lucius barely suppressed a smirk as his own terse and concise style of speech from the interrogation protocols was replaced with the official's own florid and pathos-laden prose. The man waxed so melodramatic that the wizard felt an almost irresistible urge to laugh out loud, despite his predicament.

"This monster in human form that you see before you manacled and humbled, stooped to threatening mere innocent children in the prime of their youth with the horrible unforgivable curses. He brought with him an overwhelming force of Death Eaters, his despicable partners in crime that our brave aurors are at this very moment guarding in the impenetrable fortress of Azkaban, risking their very lives for all of our protection.

He bears for all to see on his arm the horrid mark of shame that You-Know-Who uses to brand his devotees. And I will in the course of these investigations show it to you, so you can see for yourself the hellish oaths he took and condemn him for his evil deeds.

Hear now in the words of our young and defenseless witnesses the terrible transgressions committed by this very demon upon their helpless persons. I am calling forth first Harry Potter, the boy who lived, an excellent young wizard who once proved the bane of You-Know-who."

Lucius watched with a bored sneer as Potter was sworn in and made his statements. Surprisingly the boy was short and quiet in his responses and the blond wizard had to give him credit for sticking to his facts, even though the interrogator tried to lead him on in his deposition to the extent that Tethering had to launch a couple of angry interventions which were condoned by the judges, but met with hissed disapproval from the audience.

Finally the interrogator was done and the advocatus stepped in to cross-examine. "Now, the Interrogator said Mr. Malfoy used the unforgivable curses on you. Did you hear him cast any such curses?" Potter stared at him for a moment, his face set and angry, but then slowly shook his head. "No, sir. He himself did not cast any unforgivable curses."

Tethering seemed to consider. "In fact, did he not stop one of the other Death Eaters, Bellatrix Lestrange from harming you and your friends? Did he not grab her by her robes and rebuke her for attacking you." Potter's eyes flitted over to the accused. "Yes, but he did it only to…" The advocatus interrupted immediately. "Did he or did he not stop Mrs. Lestrange? A simple yes or no will suffice." The young wizard looked quite upset now. "Yes," he answered angrily.

Tethering whirled round, facing the panel of judges with a dramatic sweep of his robes. "There you have it. Not only did Mr. Malfoy refrain from using any of the unforgivables himself, in fact he did not personally harm any of the children, but he even intervened preventing his 'partners in crime' as the esteemed Interrogator named them, from inflicting any damage on the young wizards and witches. He showed remarkable restraint and consideration. I would therefore submit that had it not been for Mr. Malfoy's presence, the harm done to these innocent children would have been severe. He prevented the worst."

Dumbledore's gavel smashed through the excited babble that erupted in the courtroom at that rather outrageous statement. Lucius curved his lips in a thin smile of triumph as he saw Potter stare back at him from his seat in the witness box in anger and disgust.

Tethering continued to score as the Interrogator next tried to pin the murder of Sirius Black on the wizard. Unfortunately both Professor Remus Lupin and Neville Longbottom had to admit that Lucius Malfoy had already been out cold on the floor hit by several hexes when Sirius had died, and had been incapable of casting any spells at all.

The attempted robbery of the prophecy was struck down as well, as it became quickly obvious from the statements of several Ministry witnesses, that prophecies could not be removed from the Department of Mysteries unless they were collected by the subject of the message. "Why would Mr. Malfoy attempt to steal an item, when he knew that the very attempt to do so would leave him incapacitated and close to death? My client is not here under any charge of terminal imbecility, is he now?"

Several nervous titters erupted around the room at that, and Lucius realized that his lawyer had begun already to sway opinions in his favor. He allowed his tense muscles to relax. 'Malfoys always deserve and get the best,' he thought to himself. 'Even when it comes to the law.'

Next the Interrogator concentrated on the conspiracy charge. He again quoted from Lucius' statements with regards to Voldemort and then asked for the prisoner's left wrist to be released. He lifted the wizard's black-robed arm and exposed the dark Death Eater mark on his skin with an exclamation of outrage and triumph. "Here is proof irrefutable that his man has sold his soul to committing the vilest of depravities in the name of the foulest of black wizards who ever walked the earth. Look at his horrid black robes, look at this nauseating mark! He judges himself. His loathsome character is written on his very body, inscribed in his very clothes."

Lucius balled his hand into a fist and ripped his arm out of the Interrogator's grip with a snarl while the hall erupted in yet another explosion of shock and excitement. "How dare you touch me without my permission!?" he hissed at the Ministry official under cover of the noise. "You will pay for this insolence!" The Interrogator took a surprised step back. "He threatens me! Do you hear?" he called, but his voice was lost in the general commotion.

When Dumbledore had finally restored order, Tethering stepped forward with bored nonchalance. "Oh, the black mark, that old chestnut," he drawled. "As I recall there was a case 15 years ago where another hotshot interrogator exposed that very mark to us. Some of us may even have been around to see it then.

As I recall, Mr. Malfoy was cleared of all charges at that time and found to have been forced into the service of the Dark Lord. So why should another showing of the mark make a difference now? We have all heard in Mr. Malfoy's confession that he freely admits to being a Death Eater. So the mark is not a surprise. Don't fall for cheap blatant tricks to manipulate your clear judgment.

However, may I remind you that when we first saw that very mark, Mr. Malfoy had been recently handfasted to a beautiful young witch of the noble house of Black. She was sitting in this very courtroom, almost nine months pregnant with their first child.

You may remember Mr. Malfoy's heart-wrenching tale of how You-Know-Who had threatened to kill his beloved wife and unborn son, in order to make him do his bidding. Coerced also by an _imperius_ spell Mr. Malfoy complied in order to secure the lives of those he cherished and had sworn to protect above all others. It was weakness, yes, but a weakness all of us who have ever loved spouses and children can understand.

Now as we see this mark again, the past repeats. Up there in the seats is Mrs. Malfoy!" Tethering raised his hand in a dramatic sweep to point out Narcissa, and the audience followed him with a collective gasp. "Next to her sits their then unborn child, their only son and heir Draco, now the pride and hope of their family, a promising wizard of the highest aspirations, best student at Slytherin the fourth year running. Look at him. If you were his father, his mother, would you not do anything you could to protect him?"

Lucius bit his tongue to keep himself from breaking out in laughter. Oh, this story was priceless! Tethering almost had him believe this drivel. So much for cheap blatant tricks… He had not thought that he would find his own trial amusing in any way, but his advocatus was a diamond among sophisters.

Just as he craned his neck to see Narcissa's and Draco's reactions to suddenly becoming the center of sympathetic attention, Tethering moved in for the killer punch. "However, as my esteemed colleague is so keen on exposing marks on my client's body, I would like to show you a few new ones, you have not seen before." He approached the wizard. "Allow me, please," he said as he opened the Death Eater robes at the shoulders. Lucius who could by now guess at the advocatus' intentions used his still freed left hand to unbutton the top of his shirt.

Slowly and gently as if he wanted to minimize the pain Tethering lifted the wizard's robes and hair away and exposed the scabbed and abraded flesh left by the iron collar which stood out quite dramatically from Lucius' otherwise pale skin.

"Our esteemed Interrogator has based his whole case on his quotes from Mr. Malfoy's supposed confessions. I submit to you that my client was tortured physically and mentally in prison and made these statements under duress. Look at this outrage. These are the marks you really want to see! This is the justice system you trust?!"

Very gingerly Tethering closed the robes again and secretly winked at Lucius as he did so. "Glad they didn't magically remove them. Was a bit of a gamble," he whispered.

As the reactions from the audience slowly died down the advocatus strode back in front of the panel of judges. "Unless the Public Interrogator has any other ridiculous and unfounded accusations to make, I have declared my case," he pronounced confidently.

Dumbledore cast a questioning glance at the Interrogator, who looked quite deflated and shook his head. He had obviously regarded the case as very straightforward and a sure win and seemed shocked and appalled to find his assessment wrong.

"Very well," declared the chief of the wizengamot. "We will take a 15 minute recess. Then both officials may make their closing statements after which we will render our judgment." The auror opened the courtroom door and the judges left. The buzz of excited conversations filled the hall as wizards and witches discussed the recent developments. Lucius watched Narcissa and Advocatus Greenleaf confer in low conspiratory whispers. Draco obviously tried to listen in, but his mother seemed to rebuke him, after which he sat back sullenly in his seat and regarded his father gravely.

On the other side Eleanor smiled down at him and made a small gesture of relief. Lucius raised his still unbound hand in acknowledgement. Between her, his son and his hired advocatus as the only people on his side he hadn't done too badly so far. Tethering distracted him after that, as he came up to him with a cup of water for which Lucius was quite grateful, especially since he had been forced earlier to skip the rather revolting swill that counted for breakfast in prison.

"We'll get exile for sure now. Too much reasonable doubt, even despite your confessions. We'll go for humble and contrite and ready to accept your sentence. You acknowledge you deserve punishment for your weakness in going back to Voldemort, but you did it for your family and to do as much good as you still could, like saveing Harry and the children from worse. We'll have witches in the seats up there sobbing into their handkerchiefs, wishing their husbands were more like you. It will be a thing of beauty to behold. And it will throw the door wide open for your eventual rehabilitation."

Lucius looked up at his family advocatus with a genuine smile. "You are entirely ruthless, Marcellus, which makes you truly the best." The lawyer bowed politely. "From someone as free from compunction as you, that's the highest compliment I could possibly receive."

Just then Lucius felt the man's hand touch his unfettered left, and with a soft crinkle of parchment he slipped a small vellum-wrapped packet into the wizard's palm. "For outside," he whispered at the blond man's cocked eyebrow. Lucius quietly pocketed the gift, making sure no one had witnessed their exchange.

* * *

The closing statements after that seemed hardly surprising to the accused Death Eater. The Interrogator remained all bluster and rhetoric, and Lucius amused himself with plotting the intricate and physical particulars of his eventual revenge on the stupid oaf. Tethering skillfully expanded on the strategy he had outlined to his defendant during the break and really had some of the female members of the audience in tears as the wizard could clearly observe. 

With the same uncanny predictability the judges conferred for a little while and then Albus Dumbledore rose to pronounce the sentence. Aurors called to the audience to stand, and even the chair bindings retracted to allow Lucius to face his doom on his feet.

"Wizards and witches of the magical realm of Great Britain, hear now the verdict of the wizengamot. For his crimes of the attempted robbery of a prophecy at the Department of Mystery, the reckless endangerment of under-age wizards and witches, and conspiracy with Lord Voldemort, to which Mr. Malfoy has freely confessed, the confessions having been heard by this court, he is being sentenced to exile from the magical community.

His wand will be broken, his magical abilities will be taken from him, and he will have to live as a muggle among muggles for the rest of his natural life. No wizard or witch may henceforward help him or hinder him under threat of imprisonment in Azkaban for at least one entire year. This court has rendered its judgment. So mote it be."

Dumbledore banged his gavel until the uproar in the room had died down, then looked down at the accused. "Do you have anything to say before this sentence is carried out?" Lucius swallowed the words of arrogance and defiance and the threats that arose in him unbidden and concentrated on Tethering's script.

"I would like to humbly thank the court for their wisdom and mercy in rendering this judgment," he said, allowing his voice to vibrate a little with emotion. "I have indeed strayed from the path of righteousness and served the Dark Lord since his return, but I have done so not for selfish reasons. I have done so to keep those that I love from harm. I have been as reluctant in my service as I could be, trying to do as little harm as I could without being discovered. If you seek to understand my true aspirations, think back on the countless donations I have made to support our community and to the tireless service I have rendered to the Ministry for many years."

He took a deep breath and decided to close his statement with a bit of ambiguous truth. "As I now need to part ways with you, you will be in my thoughts, and I sincerely hope that your great struggle against the forces of darkness will be crowned by success. I hope my son will grow up to be an honorable man and a beacon of pride to the house of Malfoy. My greatest pain and punishment will consist in not being able to accompany him on his path as a father should."

He lowered his head not to let his amusement show as some members of the audience actually started to clap at his words and to protest the harshness of the sentence.

However, the judges were hardly swayed by this development and a few minutes later they had formed a circle around him. An auror instructed him to sit back in the chair which bound him again. He saw Tonks bring in his snake cane. "Lucky bastard," she mouthed at him, then stepped back.

Dumbledore took it and slipped the plain unadorned ebony wand from its core. He held out the magical weapon for all to see, then pulled it from the silver snake head that held it at the top and with a swift movement cracked it over his knee. The wand broke with an odd animal cry of pain, and the old wizard cast the two pieces at Lucius' feet, his blue eyes looking deeply into the Death Eater's grey.

Lucius tried to mask his distress with hatred. He had possessed his wand since his eleventh year and it had never left his side. His father had accompanied him when he had picked it out, and Lucius still recalled a rare smile on Octavian Malfoy's narrow lips when he had caused old Mr. Ollivander to almost fly to the back of his own store when he had pointed the polished ebony at him. His father had known then, that he had sired a powerful son, and he had been proud.

However, a moment later Lucius' reminiscences were interrupted as the judges quietly began to intone the secret incantations that would block all of his magical powers for the future. The force of the spellcraft of seven vastly experienced wizards held Lucius in a vortex of energy that crackled over him with painful intensity, and when the collective curses finally took effect with a rather spectacular display of hissing purple fire, he needed all his self-possession not to cry out in agony.

He slumped over in his seat for a few seconds, feeling blood fill his mouth where he had bitten the inside of his own cheek, then stretched and forced himself to face the crowd again in defiance. His bonds finally fell away from him. Obviously the chair now deemed him no longer a threat of any kind. The judges retreated. "Take him and escort him out of the Ministry," Dumbledore instructed the aurors.

However just as his niece laid a hand on his shoulder, he noticed that Advocatus Greenleaf had cornered one of the judges in the arena and was conferring with him over a piece of paper. They approached Dumbledore, and eventually the chief of the wizengamot held up a commanding hand. "Silence," he called. "A matter has to be brought to my attention that will need to be resolved now, as Mr. Malfoy will not receive any other communications from the wizarding world in the future. Please be seated, all of you."

There were suppressed murmurs from the crowd and Lucius caught Tethering's expression of surprise as the advocatus shrugged his shoulders to indicate he did not know what was going on either. The judges made their way back to the bench and settled in, and finally Dumbledore instructed Mr. Greenleaf to make his announcement.

The young lawyer smoothed a small piece of parchment and then stepped carefully back as far as he could from the center of the room until he was flanked by two aurors. Nervously he cleared his throat.

"We wish to make an announcement on behalf of Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, born of the house of Black. Mrs. Malfoy wishes her husband Lucius Malfoy to know that in the light of the most recent developments she is revoking her handfasting to him. She regards it as a grave dishonor to be considered married to a man who is now a muggle and an outcast. She will retain full possession and control over the Malfoy property and holdings in the name of her son Draco, until he has come of age and can continue the family line with honor."

Greenleaf avoided looking at the black clad man facing him and folded up the parchment. For a moment Lucius Malfoy stood perfectly still while the courtroom remained utterly quiet. Then he heard the agonized voice of his son cry out above him "Mother! How could you?!" The next moment he had ripped his snake cane out of Tonks' hands and in the racket that broke out as everyone erupted in surprise at the scandal that had just unfolded, he steered a direct course towards Advocatus Greenleaf to beat the miserable little lawyer to a pulp.

* * *

Some useful elementary cleaning spells for wizards:  
_Vestimentascedo -_ (contracted from _vestimentas ascedo_)_ -_ I am getting rid of (my) clothes  
_Detergeo -_ I am washing (myself)  
_Capillavo -_ (contracted from _capillum lavo_) - I am cleaning (my) hair  
_Ungues concisio -_ I am cutting (my) nails  
_Coloreverso - _(contracted from _colorem reverso_) - I am changing the color back 


	12. The Path to Exile

**The Path to Exile**

_"Patriae quis exul se quoque fugit?__ – What exile from his country is able to escape from himself?" (__Horace, Carmina II, 16, 19)_

Lucius found himself standing on the pavement of a narrow, filthy London side-street, his black cane in a white-knuckled death-grip and his robes in disarray. He caught his breath. Of course he had never reached his wife's lover. Aurors had grabbed him immediately, had dragged him though the gawping crowds of wizards and witches at the Ministry and had rather unceremoniously thrown him out.

He was still fuming at his wife's – ex-wife's he corrected himself – gall at daring to call it quits on him. Whatever their private hang-ups had been, she had always supported him in public, just as he had done his part at her social functions. He would have never revoked the commitment that they both had made, however tempting that might have felt at times.

It was almost unimaginable that she had actually dared to shame both him and her with her open act of disloyalty. Divorce among the pureblood houses was just unheard of. And the most unnerving aspect of it all was that she had nothing to gain by her scandalous course of action. As far as she was concerned, he was out of the picture in any case. It had to be some harebrained plot cooked up by her lawyer-lover in order to secure the Malfoy fortune for the Blacks. He sincerely wished he could go back and beat the pair's motivation out of them, which, of course, was out of the question.

He was now in the world of muggles, and already sticking out like a sore thumb. How many muggles made it out on a sweltering hot day in June wearing floor-long black hooded robes? Out of habit he shook the heavy fabric back in place and then reached into his pocket to pull out the small vellum-wrapped parcel Tethering had slipped it to him earlier.

A few women were walking towards him now, and one seemed already to be commenting to the others about his rather strange appearance. He stepped back from the street and slunk behind the phone-box that allowed magical folk access to the Ministry. On examination he found that the parcel contained a rather small flat key and some strangely colored oblong pieces of paper showing numbers and the face of the muggle queen of England. "Twenty pounds," one paper read, which made little sense. It certainly was not information about its own weight.

Lucius put the key and the papers back in his pocket and found that the vellum wrapper had a penned note on the inside. He recognized Eleanor's handwriting in her signature amber ink. The women had now passed after casting a few curious and blatantly appraising glances in his direction. Lucius lifted the parchment and read:

"Dear Lucius,

When you read this your first minutes of exile will have passed. I will do everything in my power to make this time as short and as safe for you as possible. Enclosed please find some muggle money. One galleon is about equivalent to five muggle pounds. They use the decimal system, believe it or not! So there are 100 pence to a pound.

The key leads to my old muggle house in North Finchley. Do you remember it? You liked the shower, last time we were there… My suggestion would be to make your way to a major street and wave down a taxi. Give the driver the address on the back of this note. The trip should cost you about 25 pounds. Pay the driver when you arrive.

Once you are there I will send a muggle friend of mine to bring you what you need. Please try not to damage him. He is really quite nice, and I am rather fond of him. He knows a bit about wizards, so don't be shy, either.

I will have to go back to Durmstrang for now, as I have acquired a rather large trail of aurors keeping tabs on me after my Azkaban excursion, courtesy of Mr. Moody, no doubt. If they see me trying to get in touch with you, I am sure they will arrest me. I'll write you through the muggle post, though!

I miss you terribly, but I am glad you are at least free and alive. Take good care of yourself, Lucius.

Yours, Eleanor"

He turned the paper to read the address, and then proceeded to follow his lover's recommendation. Taxis were apparently easy to find, and after some waving at the hulking black cars that sped past him, one even stopped. The driver stuck his head out of the open window. "Need to get back to the set?" he asked. Lucius lifted an eyebrow. "The set?" The man shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, the movie set, you know. I just thought, the blond wig, the robes, that flashy pimp cane…"

The wizard shook his head. This conversation was as incomprehensible as it was pointless. Had this muggle just dared to call him a pimp? Normally he would have put the insolent little bugger in his place, but he needed him and was in no position to fight. "I need to go to this address," he said very slowly and loudly, so the idiot would understand him, and held out Eleanor's note for him to read.

"Whatever you say, guv'nor," grinned the man. "Get in." The door-handle proved a bit of a problem, after Lucius realized the driver was not going to do the polite thing and get out to open the car for him. Muggle servants were obviously rather ill-bred and churlish.

Eventually he settled in the back of the taxi, arranged himself, his cane and his robes in the rather cramped, small space and decided that transportation by any other means than carriage or magic seemed rather tedious. The taxi wound its way among buses, cyclists, pedestrians and other cars, stopping almost constantly for no apparent reason and in between scheming how he would punish Narcissa and her lover if he ever got back to the wizarding world, Lucius looked out of the window at the hustle and bustle of muggle London.

To him it was an odd sight. So far in his life he had carefully avoided any contact with muggles where possible and encountered them mostly at night during raids and usually in much smaller numbers. This sun-drenched, sweltering beehive of activity felt actually rather intimidating. There were so many of them and they were so blatant about who they were, going about their business as wizards and witches only dared in special places like Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley.

Lucius hated them, their noise, their smell, their stupid self-confidence, the ugliness of their machines, their clothes, their houses. They were an infectious pest not only in the magical world but even for their own world, spreading everywhere, polluting everything. People like Arthur Weasly, who welcomed them were demented fools. True wizards like Lord Voldemort held the real vision of how things had to be: separation first, extermination next. However, the blond wizard had to admit before the sheer numbers of people that zipped past him, that the second part of the plan appeared rather utopian in broad daylight.

Eventually the roads seemed to clear somewhat. People and cars got more sparse, houses had less stories and the occasional tree appeared. Lucius even found he could tolerate some of the older buildings, the ones that had bay windows with lead-glass panes, carved wood-beams and pointed gables above the doors and trellises with blooming roses around the sides. Truth be told, they were rather small, and he was unable to see how people could in all decency live in them, but they did not quite offend the eye like some of the square hulking concrete towers with hundreds of featureless square windows in them that he had seen earlier.

Finally the taxi came to a last stop. The driver pushed open a glass panel that separated his side of the car from the passenger compartment and craned his head back. "Okay, here we are. That'll be 28 quid." Lucius lifted an eyebrow. Pounds and pence he understood now, but what was a quid? Something like a sickle? He decided that the number was close enough to Eleanor's estimate to go with the pounds. He pulled out two colored papers that showed a ten and a twenty respectively and held them out to the driver.

He got two small coins back that reminded him a bit of galleons and then had to figure out how to get out of the damn car. Eventually the driver relented and did get out himself to open the door from the outside. "Not from around here, eh?" he asked. "No, not really," sneered Lucius, swept up his robes, grabbed his cane and stalked away from the taxi towards a familiar looking broad chestnut tree in bloom that he remembered stood in the front garden of Eleanor's old home.

As he opened the squeaky cast-iron gate in front of the property he heard the taxi drive off. Lucius took a deep breath and walked up to the narrow two-storey house that he would be forced to call his home for a yet indefinite amount of time. Eleanor's key fit the lock, and soon he found himself standing in the long dim hallway that he recalled quite vividly from a cold autumn evening six years ago.

That night Eleanor had saved him from a contingent of aurors after a botched Death Eater raid. He had suffered from the after-effects of a rather nasty _cruciatus_ that had originally been intended for her, and she had been furious with him, because the raid had been directed at some of her friends. She had also been grateful for his intervention with regards to the curse, but he had really only found out about that the next morning, when she had introduced him to the rather fascinating muggle invention of a shower.

With a sigh he pulled off his heavy Death Eater robes and hung them on the coat-rack on the wall. His cane found a new home in the umbrella stand beneath it. Now robbed of its core it would have a mostly decorative purpose anyway, though Lucius knew from experience that it could be relied on to deliver a rather well-placed and incapacitating blow at need. The snake-head handle had certainly seen its fair share of blood.

The wizard looked around. He had survived his trial, he had made it to his new home, he had taken off his robes – he had absolutely nothing else to do. The silence of the old house descended on him like a _tristitia_ spell, and he swallowed hard as he realized that he could quite easily go mad with boredom over the following weeks and months. "Still better than prison," he murmured to himself as encouragement and then shook his head. "Oh Hecate, I'm already talking to myself – great!"

He decided to get himself a cup of tea and some decent food and then explore the rest of the house. The kitchen still looked like he remembered it from his last visit. He gave the various muggle implements on the counter a wide berth and opened some cupboards and drawers at random.

Many objects he recognized, though he had to admit that even a magical kitchen would probably hold surprises for him. After all, they were the domain of house-elves or perhaps mudblood witches, not of a self-respecting pureblood like himself.

Eventually he had located a long tin of biscuits that looked promising. It spelt "Plain Chocolate Hob-nobs" down the side, and the muggle-picture of the contents seemed quite appealing. He had also found a box of tea-bags that said "PG Tips." It seemed muggles needed to have strange additional names for everything.

Now for boiling water. Obviously waving a wand over a mug of water and casting a heating spell was out of the question. So how did muggles get water to boil? He decided that his alchemistical and potions training might help. If you lit a fire under an alembic, its contents would eventually start to boil without any spells. Muggles had to rely on simple physics like that the entire time. So the logical next step would be to start a fire – again without magic.

Half an hour later a very frustrated wizard sat at the kitchen table munching on a plate of biscuits and drinking a plain glass of milk from the fridge. It seemed very likely that his food would be mostly cold in the near future. This proved to be a rather inauspicious start to his life without magical powers. Lucius sighed and broke another hob-nob in half. At least the biscuits were rather good.

Suddenly a shrill ring tore through to silent house. Lucius jumped out of the kitchen chair that fell back with a crash, peered into the hall and grabbed his cane from the umbrella stand. Behind the stained glass windows of the front door a shadow indicated a visitor. The wizard approached cautiously. No one outside of his lawyers and Eleanor should know he was here, and surely they would simply apparate. The shadow moved slightly and another piercing ring echoed through the rooms.

Lucius took a deep breath, lifted his cane, stretched forward and opened the door. A muggle man in his forties stared at him, and the wizard slowly lowered his weapon while trying not to burst out in mocking laughter.

The man before him wore the most ludicrous attire he had ever seen: brown pants, cut off above the knee to show off the muggle's pale and hairy legs, even allowing a glimpse of the man's socks, that went half way up his calves, a shirt, also brown, with most of the sleeves cut off and a skinny brown necktie, that hung down the man's chest like a leash. The shirt had a front pocket with a small coat of arms emblazoned on it that spelt "UPS". Not even a wizard child would ever willingly wear such demeaning clothes.

Lucius forgot his previous caution. This ridiculous muggle couldn't possibly pose a threat. "What do you want?" he asked curtly. The man blinked slowly. He had many odd people open the door on him for his deliveries, and the tall man before him certainly didn't qualify as the worst. But this guy had definitely read too many Anne Rice books or something: white-blond hair half-way down his back, a knee-long waistcoat that maybe Queen Victoria would have thought looked sharp and a walking stick with a spiny snake-head thingy for a handle. Who did he think he was? Dracula's cousin?

He realized that the owner of the house seemed to grow impatient, and something in the icy light of the grey eyes that stared down at him told him that he should concentrate on his job. He indicated a hefty parcel on the floor beside him and held out a pad and pen, wondering why he should feel goose-bumps on a hot day in June. "Delivery for you, sir."

Lucius couldn't believe his ears. His first impulse was to bellow at the idiotic muggle in anger. How stupid were these people? Didn't he know to use the delivery entrance at the back and give the parcel to the house elves? He gripped his cane, then realized that Eleanor's house didn't have a delivery entrance, merely a back-door to the garden. There certainly were no house elves, either.

He tossed back his hair. "Fine," he said haughtily. The man swallowed. "Could you please sign for it here?" The muggle held out the pad and pen again and tapped a little box next to the name "L. Sartorius" with his finger. Lucius considered for a moment, then he wrote "L. Sartorius" in the box with a flourish and gave the pad and pen back to the man in the ridiculous brown robes. He neatly stepped aside to allow the servant to carry the parcel inside, and was highly surprised and offended, when the man merely flipped shut the pad, turned on his heel and walked off down the path to the front gate after a short good-bye.

Lucius stood rooted to the spot, speechless at such insolence and rudeness and watched the man start up a large car, the same color as his clothes and drive off. It dawned on him that he was really expected to carry the delivery himself, just as he had been expected to get in and out of that taxi by himself. Curiosity eventually won out against outrage. So he carefully leaned his cane against the inside of the door frame, bent down and with a grunt lifted the cardboard box. He closed the front door with his heel and walked back into the kitchen where he set the parcel on the large dining table.

After some work with a steak knife he was able to open the box to reveal a piece of paper and what looked like piles of small scraps of fabric. He placed the paper on the table and touched the first piece of cloth, only to find that it quickly grew and expanded under his fingers until he held what appeared a pair of dark grey somewhat washed-out trousers. 'Shrinking spells,' he thought to himself, feeling quite touched at encountering some magic, even if it was not of his own doing. He laid down the pants and picked up the paper.

"Dear Lucius,

This parcel should reach you after you got to my place. I hope you have settled in a bit already. I left the kitchen fully stocked before I moved out, so you should be okay for food for the next few days. The parcel contains a bunch of muggle clothes and shoes. I hope they fit, even though they will be a bit unfamiliar to wear at first. At least that way you can get out of the house when you feel like it without drawing undue attention.

I have also included some wizarding stuff for you, and a book that I wrote a couple of years back on living as a muggle when I wanted to put my muggle-studies curriculum that I developed at Hogwarts to some use.

You will probably find it offensive, but I highly recommend you read it before you do too much about the house, particularly in the kitchen… Muggle households can prove lethal to the uninitiated, occasionally they even take the lives of their non-magical inhabitants. So be careful. If you're unsure about something, try not to mess with it.

Mr. Oswald who you may remember from your raid six years ago will be by on Friday with food. He was a friend of my father's and assures me he does not hold a grudge regarding the fact that you and the other Death Eaters tried to torture and kill him at one point.

I'm still in cahoots with your advocatus and will write you soon with news of our progress.

Yours Eleanor."

Lucius explored the rest of the box and eventually had a rather large pile of muggle clothes spread across the table. He was glad to see that none resembled in the least the cut-off pants, shirt and socks of the servant who had made the delivery. He also found several pairs of shoes and boots that expanded under his hands, and finally some decent wizard clothes, some of which he recognized as items that he had left behind in Eleanor's rooms at Durmstrang over the years.

The last item on the bottom of the box was a thick leather-bound volume with the title "Living Like a Muggle. A Practical Guide for Young Wizards and Witches. By Eleanor Sartorius." Lucius opened the cover and looked at a magical picture of the author on the flyleaf. Eleanor was wearing muggle clothes, smiling and waving at him. He compressed his lips and ran his fingertips over the photograph. He remembered some of her last words to him. "You are a Slytherin, Lucius, you are a survivor."

Well he'd better make damn sure that the world of muggles didn't kill him, then. So, despite his disgust at having to immerse himself in muggle studies of all things, he sat back down behind his plate of biscuits and began to read.


	13. Unwelcome News

**Unwelcome News**

_"O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible." (__William Shakespeare: The Life and Death of King John V, vi)_

Lucius Malfoy woke from the insistent howling of a car alarm. He sat up in bed with a curse, not for the first time wishing for his wand so he could vanish both the muggle vehicle and the confounded racket it produced, and found it was already broad daylight outside. Perched on the foot of the bed, Hermes, his eagle-owl hooted angrily. "I know," Lucius growled.

Hermes had arrived three days into his residence at 27 Ivy Crescent bearing a letter from Draco, which now lay carefully folded on the nightstand. Lucius had been glad to find that his son had moved out of the Manor and was spending the summer at Hogwarts under the protection of Professor Snape. Draco did not support his mother's decision to revoke the handfasting, and part of his return to school had been in protest at her shameful behavior.

Of course Lucius could not write back, as he would have caused problems for his son for maintaining contact with him, and so he had kept the owl. By now he was glad for the company. At least he could pretend he was talking to his familiar instead of talking to himself.

He stretched under the sheets trying to block out the noise and cast a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Half past nine. Then he remembered, it was Friday: Mr. Oswald, Eleanor's muggle acquaintance would come by later with food for the next week.

Mr. Oswald was the first muggle with whom Lucius ever had a polite conversation. The first visit had been rather awkward, but he had found out that the elderly man was actually descended from wizards, from a Glasgow branch of the Hufflepuff family, to be precise. However, they had produced nothing but squibs for several generations and now the family lived among muggles with most descendents not even aware of their magical ancestry.

Still, Lucius had found it a bit easier after that to accept Mr. Oswald, and now he looked forward to the regular Friday visits. Eleanor's friend would usually help him stock the pantry, then stay to smoke a pipe, and talk for a little. He had worked very closely with Wilhelm Sartorius, Eleanor's father, and Lucius discovered quite a bit about his lover's childhood and family. When he got back to the wizarding world, he would of course deny that he ever had any kind of contact with a muggle, but for now Mr. Oswald was a welcome diversion.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. All in all, he had settled in quite well over the last few weeks. And he found that life on the whole was bearable, albeit terribly unexciting. He certainly hadn't managed to kill himself yet, even though some of the scenarios described in Eleanor's book were rather hair-raising. The only muggle invention he had eventually unplugged and sworn never to use again was the television, as "Live Like a Muggle" called it.

He had tried it during the first week, and had found that after ten hours he had accomplished nothing more than four trips to the bathroom and three excursions to the kitchen to make himself sandwiches. The device had to be some dark arts time eater. After all, nothing that he'd seen had been terribly exciting or been of any real concern to him. Most of the time he had been urged to buy muggle crap no one in their right mind would want, and half of it he couldn't even remember afterwards, yet he had sat rooted to his spot on the sofa like one spellbound.

There had been some excerpts from games, similar somewhat to quiddich. Of course the pathetic muggles, who could not ride brooms, had to run after the ball, again wearing cut-off pants. What was it with muggle men being so insistent upon showing off their legs? Some other presentations had involved car chases and people shooting at each other. Actually, a lot of muggles had got killed during that day. Perhaps Voldemort's plans would come to fruition after all.

He also remembered watching some activities based at a muggle hospital. That had been somewhat entertaining, because muggle medicine seemed very different from magical healing. As a matter of fact, some of it appeared to be related to torture practices rather than to helping people. Muggle doctors did a lot of cutting and sewing, but they always knocked their victims out beforehand, so causing them discomfort obviously was not a priority for them. Lucius, who knew a bit about inflicting pain himself, had studied their proceedings with interest.

For some reason the television had also shown a lot about the healers' love-lives, and Lucius had been somewhat surprised that muggles would allow other muggles to see what happened in their bedrooms, especially since some of the couples were quite clearly cheating. Then again, perhaps that was the reason why so many muggles ran around with guns shooting each other. Jealousy could be quite motivating. That of course had made him think of Narcissa and Advocatus Greenleaf. All in all not using the television again had seemed like a good idea.

Fortunately Eleanor had a decent collection of books, and he had enjoyed having the time to read up on some arcane fields of magical practice, such as _empathicura_ and demon conjuration. He even had to admit that some of the muggle authors were quite readable. He found he liked Shakespeare, who had done quite a decent job depicting the wizard Prospero in "The Tempest", even though the old fool had eventually allowed his daughter to marry a muggle.

The three witches in "Macbeth" however he had found a bit overdone. Occasionally you'd find a washed-up hag like that in Knockturn Alley hawking dried frogs' eyes. But the types who had second sight and could prophesy were generally better paid and in better shape.

The wizard returned from the bathroom and paused before the bedroom wardrobe. On the first evening he had tried to get into some of the muggle pants that Eleanor had sent him. They had looked washed-out and ugly with their seams exposed and some areas reinforced with metal rivets. Perhaps Eleanor had picked the wrong size. In any case he could not recall ever having worn something as uncomfortable and tight. Talk about having your balls in a vise. This was worse than riding a broom! He had been certain then that he would not concern himself further with muggle clothes, even if it meant confinement to the house and garden.

A little later Lucius sat outside on the patio behind the living room eating breakfast. It still irked him that he was expected to prepare his own food, but he had at least got the hang of it. Eleanor's book had helped a lot. Tea water could be boiled using an electric kettle. A lighter in the kitchen drawer under the sink started a fire on the gas stove.

Lucius made himself think about the proceedings in terms of alchemistical experiments rather than house-elf chores, that way it was at least possible to bear the shame. Still it had taken him two weeks to finally make up his mind and wash the dishes. By then the pile of crockery teetering in the sink had been such an olfactory insult to him that the necessity to get his hands dirty had seemed the lesser of two evils.

Now he stretched his legs under the table, sipped his tea and enjoyed the dappled sunlight under the old trees of the garden. Hermes perched on the back of the chair opposite him and blinked his large yellow eyes at him. Moments later the owl seemed to have picked up a noise from inside the house, because he spread out his broad wings and flew back into the living room, only to emerge a little later with the post in his claws. He dropped two letters on the table and hopped back on his seat.

Lucius had the distinct impression that his bird felt personally insulted by the fact that he got his correspondence through the muggle post these days. He picked up his butter knife, wiped it on a paper serviette and slit the two envelopes. As usual the larger one contained a copy of the previous day's Daily Prophet. The smaller held a letter from Eleanor. Lucius laid the newspaper aside and unfolded the parchment of the letter.

"Dear Lucius,

Thank you for your amusing letter which Mr. Oswald posted to me last Friday. I am sorry the car alarm keeps waking you, but there is very little you can do. You could try talking to the owner (without your cane!), phone the local police station and lodge a complaint, or you could convince a muggle to come and actually steal the car. (Ignore the last suggestion, please, I'm only kidding!) At least it seems you are keeping in good spirits, despite the many aggravations of muggle existence.

In the interim I have some news. Tethering and I have finally made some progress with the Ministry, and it seems they will hold a hearing on your behalf. Luckily for us they have made some grave procedural errors in administering your sentence, for example they did not provide you with the means to survive in the muggle world for a week as the law prescribes. Of course your outburst and attempt to inflict terminal damage on Mr. Greenleaf rushed them a bit at the end. Still, they owe you a review, and they are slowly coming around to our point of view. Of course your trusty little black book is helping, too.

Tethering and Belisarius are not the most honorable company one could keep, but they are extremely competent and knowledgeable. Last Monday I found that Desdemona had tried to use some of the information in your book for her own ends. Fortunately Belisarius saw my point of view and threatened to fumigate the office with garlic if she attempted something like it again. She still fondly remembers you as the meal that got away and seems rather jealous of me.

If only she knew… She sees more action in one evening than I have since the end of May. I find myself spoilt by your attentions and not very good at protracted celibacy and fervently hope we can put this whole tedious episode behind us soon. Still, I am not trying to sound ungrateful. We were very lucky. Yesterday was the last Death Eater trial. The whole lot has been sentenced to life in Azkaban without parole. The public interrogator has been much better prepared than in your case, and Tethering could not run circles around him any more even though he ended up defending quite a few of them. The advocati must be rolling in galleons…

Draco is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I stopped off at Hogwarts earlier this week on my way north after a meeting in London. He was relieved to be able to talk to someone who is on his father's side. Actually being at school seems to be good for him. Severus has given him some excellent Defense against the Dark Arts projects as their teacher last year seems to have been a bit of a flake. It keeps his mind off the media circus surrounding your trial and Narcissa's divorce, which has upset him quite a bit.

She did an interview with 'Witch Weekly' about her experience, and they are celebrating her as a heroine: 'a shining example that emancipation is no longer a foreign concept among the stuffy rules of the old pureblood houses. Narcissa Black is a modern, intelligent witch who has learned to stand up for herself. Her bold move is to be commended.'

She of course had to go out of her way and mention sexually depraved me, which put a bunch on reporters on my trail, among them a horrid woman named Mrs. Skeeter. So now I've gained me some dubious fame as the 'unprincipled adventuress who seduced Lucius Malfoy, the notorious Death Eater'. At least she refrained from telling them any tall tales about your other activities.

'The Quibbler' decided that as Narcissa got a divorce, obviously you were not in love with each other, so there was no pressure on your side to join Voldemort. They drew the razor-sharp conclusion that you must have been a Death Eater voluntarily and that your family is of no concern to you. Really! Some people are such cynics! Then again, fortunately nobody takes that paper seriously anyway. At least, as you probably saw, 'The Prophet' slammed Narcissa for kicking you when you were down. 'Unsporting,' they called it.

I am looking forward to your weekly letter. Let's hope the wait will be over soon. I promise you, when I have you back I will lock myself up in my bedroom with you and a bottle of vorax potion and won't let you out for the next two months. We'll prove 'Witch Weekly' wrong about the 'stuffy rules of the old pureblood houses'!

Your unprincipled adventuress, who wishes she could right now seduce Lucius Malfoy, the notorious Death Eater…"

Lucius lowered the parchment and a small smile played around the corners of his mouth. He knew exactly what she was talking about. In his opinion two months and a bottle of aphrodisiac potion wouldn't even begin to scratch his itch. He also realized that the fact that she was now associated with him in public gave him a certain measure of satisfaction, as if he had somehow staked a claim.

Of course it was also another nail in the coffin of the Malfoy reputation, and old Octavian Malfoy was probably turning in his grave, but after his son had been sentenced as a Death Eater and forced to live as a muggle, few things were left with which he could really do any additional damage. It felt liberating in a way.

Lucius poured himself another cup of tea and reached for the copy of the "Daily Prophet." As he unfurled the paper, however, he was in for a harsh shock. "Mass Breakout at Azkaban Prison!" declared the headline on the front page. The photo beneath showed the central courtyard with the lifeless bodies of at least fifteen to twenty aurors strewn about. "By Azrael," breathed the wizard. His life had just all of a sudden become much more interesting. Voldemort was back in control of a fighting force. And now he would find out very soon if the Dark Lord had any plans for him. He felt fairly certain, that whatever they were, he would not like them much.

For a moment he idly wondered whether Tonks was among the dead aurors in the picture. He found he didn't much care either way. Relative or no, she belonged to Narcissa's traitorous house, and she was an insolent mudblood to boot. However, he did wish the Death Eaters had killed the little snot who had dared to dye his hair blue on the day of the trail. He hoped he had been made to suffer.

Still numbed by the news Lucius read the article and considered his next steps. There was little he could do. No one in their right mind would help him. Not only would they incur the full severity of the law, but also risk the wrath of the most feared dark wizard to have ever existed. No one would face those stakes for his sake. To run would merely put him into unfamiliar muggle territory, where he would have to watch out not only for Death Eaters, but also for enemies and dangers with which he was largely unfamiliar.

He slammed down the newspaper. "Damn it! Hermes, we are a sitting duck and a sitting owl, and if you know what's good for you you'll fly your feathery behind out of here. Fast!" The eagle-owl regarded him gravely and began to calmly clean his breast feathers. "Noble of you, but stupid," growled Lucius. He wondered idly whether Mr. Oswald might be persuaded to bring him one of those muggle guns. They seemed to be crude but effective weapons.

Just then he felt a sharp pain lance through his left arm. The teacup shattered on the slate pavement of the patio as he clamped his right hand down over the dark mark in surprise. The skull and snake hadn't bothered him at all since his arrest, and he had almost forgotten he still bore Voldemort's brand. There was no way he could respond to the summons, and he was sure the Dark Lord knew that. His mark had been activated not to call him, but to locate him. They knew where he was now, and they would come for him.

Lucius had been in the service of the Dark Lord long enough to know what awaited him. He prided himself on his self-possession and his discipline and had always thought that even while he preferred cunning to false bravado, he was at heart a fearless man.

Now he had to admit to himself that he was truly terrified. "I will stay here. I will die here on my feet as a Malfoy," he quietly told Hermes. "I will not beg, and I will not debase myself." But even as he spoke those words, his memories were filled with the images of wizards and witches as powerful and as proud as himself under torture, groveling before his master pleading for death and being cruelly denied.

* * *

Eleanor finally lost her self-control. She reached over the desk and grabbed Marcellus Tethering by his drab, grey robes. "I think you are not hearing me!" she shouted at him. "They will kill him! We need to get help. We need to get him into protective custody – something – anything!"

She was back in London at the advocatus' office in Knockturn Alley, having read about the prison breakout a little over 24 hours before Lucius Malfoy. Tethering stayed maddeningly calm as he put his hand over hers. "I would advise you to let go of me," he said coolly. "So far our partnership has been very profitable to all concerned, and I would like to keep it that way, but I will not tolerate physical threats."

She released the lawyer with a sigh of frustration. "Fine, sorry. But as I am trying to point out, our partnership currently is not very profitable to your client Mr. Malfoy, who will shortly be tortured to death without our intervention. Which does not make our partnership very profitable to me. So what are you going to do about it?"

Tethering straightened his robes. "Professor, I am always thinking first and foremost about my own interests and those of this firm. You can hardly fault me for that. I have no intention of jumping into heroics, meddling in the affairs of the Dark Lord and getting myself locked up in Azkaban for a year. Not to mention that they will most likely revoke my advocatus license. No client is worth that much to me. As I have told you already, without the official review of the sentence we can do absolutely nothing. I am afraid my hands are tied. If that makes you unhappy with our services, I am sorry."

Eleanor was getting ready for a reply when she heard a cough behind her. Desdemona had quietly entered the office, and as the witch looked around, the vampire held out a large eagle owl to her, which pecked impatiently at her owling glove. "This came for you a few minutes ago. The message says it's urgent." She placed the owl on the table, raised an eyebrow and left as noiselessly as she had come.

"Excuse me." Eleanor turned away from the advocatus and removed a rolled up piece of lined muggle notepaper from the owl's foot. It hadn't taken her more than a second to recognize the owl as Lucius own bird Hermes. The note, however, was not written in Lucius' hand, but in a hurried spidery script she couldn't place.

"Eleanor, I'm writing this while Lucius is outside helping me unpack the car. He didn't want me to contact you, but I don't see any other way. He found out this morning that the Death Eaters have escaped. Voldemort has 'activated his mark' – hope that means more to you than to me – and they are coming after him. I've told him I'll stay with him and help him to defend himself. But we could surely do with your help, you being the only one of us who can work defensive magic. Marvin Oswald."

"Well?" said Tethering, when she had stopped reading. Eleanor looked up. "There is a muggle out there with more guts and gumption than you. He's staying behind to help Lucius against the Death Eaters. Of course he is a stupid fool." She ran her hand through her hair. "Gods, I have to tell him to get out of there. Do you have a quill and some parchment, please?"

The advocatus reached behind him and wordlessly pushed some writing materials towards her. Eleanor cast a long look at Hermes, who was regarding her intently, then smoothed down the paper and began to write.

"Marvin, got your note. Get out of there, now! I mean it! Your willingness to stick by Lucius is very noble, but I don't want to explain your heroics to your wife Patsy, when they show her your mangled body. There is absolutely nothing you can do, and staying at my house is a certain death sentence. These people will swat you like a fly, and then they will do with Lucius as they please anyway. Your death will serve absolutely no purpose. I'm coming out here myself as soon as possible, and I will make my stand with him. Leave now, while you still can! Eleanor."

She fixed the scroll to Hermes' leg and then held out her arm to the eagle owl. "Fly back as fast as you can and deliver the message, and if the muggle doesn't want to leave, you have my permission to harass him. Just don't hurt him permanently." The owl hooted, and she opened the office door to release the bird into the main hall where Desdemona could set him free.

"I need to go," she told Tethering, turning back. The advocatus shrugged his shoulders. "I thought as much," he said. Eleanor sighed. "Look, can you at least get an anonymous message to Professor Snape at Hogwarts and to either Narcissa or Mr. Greenleaf and warn them?" The advocatus considered for a moment. "That I am prepared to do," he said.

"Well, if you don't hear from me by tomorrow evening, send in the aurors, they can scrape up what's left of us," she told him. Tethering gave her an appraising look. "Well, professor, it's been a pleasure doing business with you," he said with a deadpan expression. Eleanor opened the door to leave. "Well, yeah, but your customer service leaves something to be desired," she replied. "It was interesting knowing you."

Back out in Knockturn Alley, she saw it was already early evening. Death Eaters always attacked at night. For a moment she stood rooted to the spot assessing her options. Up the narrow street in front of the shop-window of _Borgin and Burke's_ lurked the small figure of Marygold Brannock, the auror who had escorted her on the day of her visit to Azkaban, and who had shadowed her religiously ever since the trial. She wore a pointed hat pulled deeply into her face, an eye-patch and an old tattered cloak, blending in quite well with the seedy environment. Still, Eleanor recognized her former student quite easily.

For a moment she considered striding up to the woman and telling her about the situation, enlisting the help of the aurors to fight the Death Eaters. It would increase her immediate chances to get Lucius and herself out of the situation alive. However, it would also eliminate once and for all her chances of ever rehabilitating her lover. Lucius would be turned out of her house, as that qualified as help, and she would be sent to prison. She was certain the pureblood wizard would not survive by himself for the year it would take her to serve her sentence.

If she simply apparated at her house now, Brannock would be able to follow her. All aurors had apparition detectors, and floo activities were monitored as a matter of routine. Using a broom would take longer, but she might be able to shake her shadow. It would be harder to confront Voldemort's servants by herself. However, she was no longer the young and inexperienced witch who had stood in the path of a Death Eater raid six years ago.

By now she had even learned to dodge unforgivables. There was still a chance she could win. She gathered her robes and sped past the auror and up the steps to Diagon Alley. With only a few minutes to spare she needed to get to _Quality Quiddich Supplies_ before they closed at 8:00 PM.

The young shop assistant regarded her with interest, as she burst into the store catching her breath. "I need the fastest broom you have," she gasped. The wizard stepped out from behind the counter. "Well, if it's speed you want, I'd recommend the Firebolt. Fastest model around these days. Of course it's a quiddich broom, really, and not cheap, because it has so many additional features."

He walked over to a display and reverently pulled down a sleek, reddish, silver-trimmed broom. "Notice the streamlined handle made of diamond-polished ash. Every broom is hand-numbered with its own registration number. We will register yours under your name upon purchase. The Firebolt has an unsurpassed acceleration from 1 to 150 mph in 10 seconds…" Eleanor laid her hand on the man's sleeve. "Did you say this thing does 150 miles?" The wizard nodded. "Sold," she exclaimed. "That's all I need to know!"

"But madam," objected the assistant. Eleanor tapped her foot. This was taking too long. She decided to play the situation for all it was worth. The store was empty this late, and she hoped she could fool the young wizard. She leaned in on him with an air of conspiracy. "You need to help me," she whispered, managing to look frightened. "My name is Athena Lestrange. I'm related to the Lestranges – yes, the Death Eaters. But my mother was a muggle. Now my relatives are after me."

She pulled the broom salesman to the front of the store and made them both duck behind the counter. Then she pointed out Auror Brannock, who was hanging around next door at a small stationary shop looking at the displays. "Do you see the woman outside, over there? She's one of them. She's been following me all day. I need to get out of here, before she kills me. Please help me!" The young man had grown deathly pale at her words. "Of course! We need to call the aurors!"

She took the salesman by the shoulders for emphasis. "Not enough time. I need to go," she said. "Why don't you sell me the Firebolt? I have enough money. Do you have a back-entrance to the store?" The wizard nodded. "Great, you can let me out there. I can disappear. Then you should lock the store and call the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Don't confront her yourself or go near her. She is a murderess. She could kill you!"

The young man swallowed. "Okay, that's 256 galleons, and I'll fill out the registration papers for you later. Athena Lestrange you said? Here, I'll walk you through storage, we pick out a broom, and then I'll show you the delivery entrance." He led the way down a narrow corridor and into a dark vaulted room stacked with broom boxes.

Eleanor watched him open a package and pull the wrapping paper from the tail twigs of a brand-new Firebolt. She rooted in her belt-purse and handed him the money. The wizard took it without counting and unlocked a heavily bolted wooden door that lead to a small back-yard that the store shared with the apothecary next door. Eleanor saw no one except a few rats that were fighting over a dead, withered mandrake root.

She smiled at the broom salesman. "Thank you so much. I'll never forget you. You're my life-saver!" The wizard blushed, and she realized she hadn't even lied to him just then. Quickly she mounted her new broom, spoke an invisibility spell and lifted above the rooftops of Diagon Alley into the evening sky. A moment later she had tilted the Firebolt forwards for acceleration and almost lost her grip and fell off her mount halfway along Oxford Street.

With a curse she clung on with her hands and legs bending low over the broom. She decided that style and riding finesse would have to wait. All she needed to do was get to North Finchley without breaking her neck first. She hoped Hermes had already delivered her message, and that she could outrun Voldemort's revenge long enough to get to Lucius while he was still alive.


	14. The Dark Lord's Revenge

**The Dark Lord's Revenge**

_"Inhumanum verbum est ultio. - Revenge is an inhuman word."__ (Seneca: De Ira II, 31)  
  
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Twilight had descended on the outskirts of London when Eleanor finally circled above Ivy Crescent assessing the potential battlefield. Mr. Oswald's old car was not parked in front of the house, and she hoped he had taken her message seriously enough to flee. The house itself was dark except for a glimmer of light from the closed curtains of the kitchen window. She lifted over the roof and descended into the garden dissolving her invisibility spell as she touched down in the shadows underneath the old trees.

Eleanor stowed the Firebolt and pulled her wand from its sheath. As she cautiously approached, she saw that the living-room curtains were also drawn, and the patio door was closed. Everything seemed deathly quiet. She had just begun to imagine that it was all a crazy bout of paranoia, that Lucius was probably simply sitting in the kitchen eating dinner, when her foot encountered something soft and yielding on the slate tiles of the porch. She quickly bent down and felt downy feathers underneath her fingertips. Someone had beaten her to it.

She heard a soft hoot and a beak snapped feebly at her hand. "Hey, Hermes, it's me," she whispered. After a quick look around she focused on the bird. The eagle owl was alive, but a superficial examination showed her at least a broken wing. "I've got to get to him," she said. "I'll take care of you properly when I've made sure he's okay." She touched her wand to the owl's wing where it stood out at an odd angle from his body and fixed the bone with a spell. Then she cautiously stood up again and looked around.

Just at that moment a hoarse and muffled cry of pain came from the inside of the house and green fire played behind the closed curtains. "Hecate!" She gripped her wand. There was no way of seeing what was going on inside, and how many enemies she would confront, but the voice had been Lucius'.

She crossed the small distance to the patio door. "_Reducto_!" Glass shattered into a million pieces and she jumped through the gaping hole into the darkened room behind. A dark-robed figure loomed over a human body writhing on the ground before it maintaining a _cruciatus_ spell with pointed wand, and while the Death Eater still stared at her in surprise at the sudden interruption, she leveled her weapon at him. "_Petrificus totalus_!"

Without a further sound the billowing cloak around the figure seemed to stiffen and the first attacker keeled over backwards. Just then a hoarse voice intoned "Stupefy!" from the depths of the room and Eleanor had to dive behind the sofa to evade the spell. She felt shattered glass from the window slice her. 'Should have vanished the damn thing, instead,' she thought briefly and rolled to the side as a second Death Eater peered down at her over the backrest of the sofa.

"_Crucio_!" She had barely time to relax and initiate the Karkaroff maneuver, as she had termed the demon's evasion spells. A moment later she stood half hidden behind the living-room door and watched the Death Eater hold the spell for a moment, then stare at his wand in surprise as his victim maintained stony silence instead of sceaming in pain. "What the…?"

She switched back. "_Expelliarmus_!" she called from her place on the floor at the feet of her attacker, hitting him squarely in the chest and hurling him into a wall. He collapsed with a noise like a deflating tire.

The light from her spell had briefly shown her two more robed figures. One of them stepped forward now, speaking, but Eleanor felt the other one circle behind her to cut off her escape. She listened to a cold female voice. "Lucius' mistress no doubt, the bitch who drove my dear sister to divorce. It will be a pleasure executing you along with him." Eleanor swallowed, that had to be Bellatrix Lestrange.

"_Imperio_!" She switched again, cowering in the deep shade by the bookshelf from where she could see both Death Eaters. The one trying to get behind her now stood before the broken patio door. "Go and lie down next to your miserable lover, so you may share the same fate," commanded Bellatrix the _imago_ standing before her. A darker male voice protested. "Hey, at least tell her to get over here and suck me off beforehand. Lucius should be conscious enough to enjoy the sight."

The woman sighed. "Avery, you are crude as always." However, she stepped aside. "Fine, suit yourself. I'll see if I can get my darling brother-in-law to watch. After all, no point wasting an opportunity for fun for all of us." Eleanor watched as Bellatrix crouched next to Lucius and revived him with a spell. He moaned as she forced him into a sitting position.

"Look, my dear, we have company. Your beautiful, foolish little bitch has decided to join us. She will die with you. And just now our good friend Avery is going to have his way with her. You'll like watching it. I'll promise. You know how very good he is at it."

Lucius struggled at her words. "Avery, don't you dare touch her! Bellatrix, you miserable hag, I should have killed you at the Ministry for not following my orders," he hissed at her, his voice hoarse with screaming. She gave a high-pitched keening laugh "Ah, as always, all show and bluster, my dear brother-in-law. Empty threats and regrets. You are nothing but a filthy muggle now. The Dark Lord wouldn't even come to you himself to kill you, for fear of sullying himself with you."

In the meantime Avery had moved from the door into the center of the room confronting the _imago_. She could see him unfastening his robes. "On your knees!" he commanded. Time to switch back. She resumed her former position taking a step towards the man, pointing her wand, anger at his attempt at rape shaking her. "You want to get it up and keep it up?" she challenged him. "I'll give you a permanent hard-on you sick fuck! _Petrificus totalus_!" Avery was too surprised at her resistance to the unforgivable to even put up the semblance of defense. He crashed to the ground without another sound.

"Stop it right there!" Bellatrix' icy voice cut through the brief upsurge of triumph Eleanor had felt at flooring the Death Eater. "I don't know what you are playing at, but one more spell out of you, and your muggle pet here bites the dust, I swear to you." She whirled around to see Lucius staring up at her from the floor, his face deadly pale in the darkness of the room. His sister-in-law was kneeling behind him, holding him up, her wand pointed directly at his heart. "Now put down your wand. Nice and slow."

Eleanor bit her lip. Thoughts raced through her on how to break the stalemate, when suddenly she could feel an upsurge of energy behind her. The second Death Eater had to have recovered from her _expelliarmus_ spell. Years of instincts honed in defense training took over, and as she hit the ground, a powerful _reducto_ spell passed over her head and slammed into the large bookshelf behind them. The heavy piece of furniture swayed and threatened to topple over, burying Lucius beneath it. She shot up from the floor, directed a _petrificus _spell behind her, which seemed to hit by the sound of it and sprinted towards the wall. Books were already raining down on them as she managed to stop the fall of the shelves, and with all her force push them back against the wall.

Just then she heard Bellatrix' voice: "_Avada…_" She whirled around, keeping her body pressed against the bookshelf. Everything happened in slow motion. She needed one second more before she could perform the Karkaroff maneuver. She was out of time. She already saw a spark of deadly green fire form at the tip of Bellatrix' wand. It was all too late. "…_kedavra_!"

Just then a glint of silver swept up from the floor and hit her attacker squarely under the arm. Eleanor heard the sickening crack of broken bones as the last remaining Death Eater cried out in pain. The green fire breaking from her wand was deflected away, hitting the wall to her side. Still she could feel and see some of the tendrils reaching for her.

Needles of absolute zero lanced through her and she slid down the shelf to the floor. A horrible white non-pain that seemed worse than any agony she'd ever experienced spread through her. It separated her self from her body, and she somehow knew that if the numbness reached her heart she would die.

Through a blinding haze she watched Lucius swing his snake cane a second time and bring it down on his sister-in-law's head with a powerful blow, and as the Death Eater collapsed, she felt herself fade out. Her last conscious thought was directed at him. 'You're alive!'

* * *

Awareness came creeping up on her slowly, and with it pain. For a while she actually struggled to keep herself in hazy half-sleep until she heard someone insistently call her name. Hands shook her. "Want to sleep, got a hangover," she mumbled in protest, when she suddenly realized that despite her discomfort there was absolutely no feeling in her legs from her thighs down.

A flare of panic shot through her. The fight, Bellatrix' killing curse, the deflected spell had left her paralyzed! Her eyes flew open at the thought and she looked up into the pale face and bloodshot eyes of Lucius Malfoy, who was crouching next to her in the twilight of early morning. "Eleanor!" She sat up with an effort. "Can't move my legs!" she gasped.

A moment later she saw that a black shape was draped across her legs, weighing her down. Bellatrix had fallen half across her when her brother-in-law had brought her down. Eleanor grabbed the robes. "Get off me! Get her off me!" Lucius moved forwards, stiffly, as if in pain himself and with a grunt rolled the Death Eater to the side. There was blood on the floor where her head had lain. Eleanor reached over and felt a slow, flat pulse. Bellatrix was merely unconscious, probably heavily concussed. Just to be on the safe side she lifted her wand and put a _petrificus_ on the woman.

A movement off to her side distracted her, and as she looked she saw Hermes perching on the body of the Death Eater who had almost brought down the bookshelf. He was preening, and now slowly blinked at her as she tried to see if he was okay. Then his horned head disappeared under his wing as he carefully flattened and arranged his powerful pinions. It seemed he had recovered by himself after she had fixed his broken bone.

She next touched her own legs only to find there was a faint prickly sensation just above her knees. "Gods," she whispered, hoping she was merely suffering from cut-off circulation. Not many people had survived brushes with the _avada kedavra_ curse, so literature on side-effects other than death was rather sketchy. Lucius hands were on her face now. He looked worried. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice still hoarse from screaming.

"Can't feel my legs," she said. "Maybe it's the curse, maybe it was just her weight." Then she focused on him. "Lucius, how are you." Her hand trailed down his chest. He sat back on his heels, shrugged. "They hadn't really warmed up yet when you came. A few _crucios,_ a racking spell or two. I guess they wanted to make a night of it." For his dismissive tone regarding his punishment he seemed strangely subdued. She could detect nothing of his usual arrogant and cynical attitude. It seemed to her the damage was somehow greater than he would let on.

"Look, let me try some _empathicura_." She stretched out her hand again, but he captured her fingers in his. "No, you've done enough," he said. "I expect a few muscle tears and bruises from the convulsions, nothing more. What about your legs?" She allowed him to distract her for a moment and realized that more feeling had returned. She was fairly certain now that she would get off with an almighty case of pins and needles.

"It'll be okay," she told him. "You'll have me hopping round the room here in a few minutes behaving as if I had an entire ants' nest crawling up my legs." All she got from him was the ghost of a smile. They had always used dismissive humor, however feeble, to get them through situations like this without waxing emotional. Only this time he wouldn't play along. She looked up at him. "Lucius, something is wrong. Something happened to you last night, and I don't mean the cursing. Tell me, please."

His pale face appeared closed to her, his grey eyes had lost their usual icy sharpness and seemed unfocused and misted. There were lines around his narrowed lips she had not seen before. He gave her the smallest shake of his head. "I'm all right. Don't worry."

Eleanor's legs were really waking up now. Every movement was agony, but she brought them round to her side and sat up straighter, so she and Lucius were finally level and face to face. She grabbed his shoulders for emphasis. "I have known you for six years now. I've seen you happy, angry, moody, vicious, aroused, on occasion even scared. I know you have a damn high tolerance for pain and punishment – but I've never seen you like this. If this is 'all right', then you have been off ever since I've met you. What is wrong with you?"

He regarded her silently, again shaking his head. Eleanor felt herself getting frantic. Despite the restraint they had used with each other with regards to the wizard's "business", they had always been completely open and honest in everything else. "Lucius, we've fought back against four Death Eaters, and you live with just some minor damage, if I am to believe you. A few weeks ago we ran circles around the Ministry. You are the chief Death Eater, and you got the most lenient sentence of them all. We are this close to getting you rehabilitated. But this morning you behave as if someone had walked over your grave. Please tell me what I am missing, Lucius!"

He lowered his eyes, and finally began to speak. "'We', that's the problem, isn't it. 'We' didn't do anything. You did, Tethering did. Proper wizarding folk did. I didn't do anything." He ran his hands through his hair. "Last night really brought it home, Eleanor. I am nothing but a pathetic helpless muggle. I am finally become what I have despised all my life. I could do nothing. You know the extent of my defense? I sliced Rodolphus' forearm with a kitchen knife. That's all. Before my trial I could have held the four of them at bay with magic. I was more skilled, more powerful. They obeyed me. Now they could do whatever they wanted, and I could do absolutely nothing.

I have not set foot out of this house since I've come here. I keep telling myself that I don't want to debase myself with the company of muggles, but the truth is that I know I am out of my depth. It's different for you. You've grown up in both worlds. I grew up zealously shielded from everything muggles are and stand for. I am a wizard. Take that away from me and I am nothing. Last night showed me that. In fact, before you came I had resigned myself to death. I could have wished for an easier way to go, but I welcomed that I would be able to leave this miserable humiliating existence behind."

He closed his eyes for a moment while she barely dared to breathe. "You know what hurt, too? That they would turn on me like that. I didn't expect it would get to me, but I have served the Death Eaters all of my grown-up life. They are the closest thing to a family I've ever had. Heck, some of them were family. I swore on my life to the Dark Lord. I did not willingly betray him. And this is my reward!"

He turned away from her, and now anger was coloring his voice. "And the fact that I am sitting here, pissing and moaning about it, instead of getting over it, is just another indication of my despicable weakness. I wish they'd taken me out. One filthy muggle less to worry about."

Eleanor sat in stunned silence. This outburst was the last thing she had expected, but knowing him as well as she did, she should have seen it coming. How could she have been so stupid? Getting him exile had been a good idea from her perspective, accustomed as she was to live as a muggle among non-magical folks. For him it had been the greatest humiliation possible. And now the Death Eaters had finally driven the message home.

"You are not a muggle," she assured him. "You are a pureblood wizard, who is merely under a punishment curse. Were you to have another child, it would have full magical abilities." "Quite," interrupted Lucius with a sneer. "One characteristic I apparently share with one Mr. Granger, a muggle dentist." Eleanor sighed. She head heard about the muggle-born Hermione Granger, a prodigy at Hogwarts. "Yeah, but you could hex Mr. Granger all you wanted, he'd still have to use his drill and not a wand to repair his patient's teeth. Call yourself squib-hexed, but you're not a muggle."

He at least looked at her again. "Semantics," he shrugged. "No, it isn't semantics. You can go back," she assured him. "You will go back. And as regards your abilities, your idea that I did all the work? Well let me tell you, I'd be dead right now if you hadn't taken out Bellatrix. The kitchen knife was a nice move, but you did much more. You actually saved my life last night."

Her legs had finally returned to normal, and she got up on her knees. "Lucius, last night didn't remind me of the fact that you don't have magical abilities right now. It reminded me of another fight six years ago against another dark wizard. You saved my life then, when you lifted the burning spell he'd put on me. We fought back to back, as we always do. That's why we're strong. That's why we survive. If you can fight with magic, you fight with magic. If you need to club someone over the head, you do that. You just do what has to be done."

She paused, softened her voice. "Don't you know that when you put yourself down, you cut us both down? I need you at my back, knowing you'll cover me. You think I'm strong, because I am a witch, and you're weak, because you are under a squib hex? You're wrong. I'm only as strong as you are. You saw me in Azkaban, in your cell. I was weak, because I saw you weak. I can't do this without you, Lucius. It won't be worth it, without you." She broke off.

He regarded her gravely. "You have never needed me," he said quietly. "There is nothing in your life so far that you couldn't have accomplished without me." She took his right hand in hers, and he let her. She saw small specks of dried blood in its back and hoped they belonged to someone else. "You really are a Slytherin, through and through." She gave him a grim smile. "If you can't use it, get rid of it, that's it?"

Lucius shrugged his shoulders. "It's about power and influence. I confess you have always been a riddle to me in that respect. Now that I am more of a hindrance and a liability to you than a help, I understand your motivation even less." She swallowed. One thing would explain, one thing she had sworn to herself she would not let him know about, she would not let herself dwell on, because there was no sense and no future in it. But now over the last few weeks, her resolve had weakened. Dumbledore knew. Draco had found out.

Eleanor licked her lips. He was looking at her intently. "Why?" he asked. "You faced death, you may still face prison. Why come for me?" "Because…" she faltered, realizing suddenly why she was so afraid. She would admit to weakness if she told him, and he might despise her for it. She would break the unwritten rules they had kept to for six long years, and she could lose everything.

She found that confronting four Death Eaters was easier than this. 'You are a Sartorius. You never backed down from anything,' she chided herself. She sat back, releasing his hand, took a deep breath and faced him. "Because, Lucius, I love you. I always have."


	15. Love is the Law, Love under Will

**Love is the Law, Love under Will**

_"Love is enough: have no thought for tomorrow If ye lay down this even in rest from your pain, Ye who have paid for your bliss with great sorrow: For as it was once so it shall be again.." (William Morris: "Love is Enough" II)  
  
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Lucius looked at her intently, his left brow arched and his grey eyes suddenly clear again. She squirmed. "Well, see, it seems it's becoming a national past-time to say it, these days," she babbled. "You know, you had me pass it on to Draco, you signed your farewell letter to me with it, probably just a summer-of-love kind of thing…" She tried to read his expression: contempt, incredulity, amusement? She could not tell. "Say something," she finally growled. "Hell, keel over laughing, if you feel like it, but give me something." Strangely enough he smiled, a small smile, it barely curved the corners of his mouth, but it reached his eyes.

"Avoiding the issue as usual, my dear? Turning your eyes away, wielding humor like a blunt weapon? All the time I've known you, you've deflected anything that would ever come close to having to give yourself to me. Agreed, I never had a problem with your body, but the rest of you – piecemeal, glimpses, to be taken away as quickly as they were given."

She bit her lips. There was truth to what he said, but then she remembered. "How do you handle being a mistress to someone like yourself, then?" she asked, feeling upset by his accusation. "You were married. You had more Death Eater secrets hanging around than other wizards have enchanted household items. I didn't want to intrude. I didn't want to make unreasonable demands. I didn't want to get hurt."

He nodded, his face still calm, the smile still in place. "And I never complained, did I, in all the six years? Even though sometimes it was hard to accept. When you left without a word after our first night together, when you accused me of betrayal without even bothering to hear my story, when you turned away from me the night after we fought the chief Death Eater. I understood, I knew what you were up against.

But now you've said it, and you are already taking two steps back. What are you afraid of? If you mean it, then you should stand behind it, no matter how I feel. If you don't, do me the courtesy not to use it to cure a mere case of post-torture depression."

He moved closer to her, his voice dropped. "If I asked for it, would you give me everything? Would you let me know I had your heart? I am apparently not a Death Eater any more. I am not married any more."

His hands cupped her face, lightly, gently, but his eyes pierced her. She took a deep, shuddering breath. For a moment she thought: 'If the devil asked for your soul offering no prize, would you give it?' But that's what love truly was, to give everything, and to ask for nothing in return. Like her grandfather, like herself, Lucius subscribed to the tenet that the ultimate destiny for a witch or wizard was to follow their will. It had been part of his farewell and testament to her. Now he was testing her. Was love for him her will? Then her feelings should have merit on their own, no matter what he felt. If not, her declaration truly was an insult to him and to her.

Lucius might not be a Death Eater any more, but he still had the ruthlessness, even in this relationship, to make her prove it, to test the purity and single-mindedness of her intentions. She realized that it was part and parcel of why she loved him: his contempt for compromise, his focus, the way he managed to be always true to himself, the way he demanded the best from everyone else. She admired him for it. For six years she had played with fire, taking precautions so she would never get burned. She had denied him the chance to prove himself to her. It was time to take the gloves off and find out whether she could handle the heat.

Eleanor brought her eyes to focus on him, took a deep breath and controlled her voice. "I love you," she repeated. He lowered his head for a moment, and when he looked back, he answered her. "Then let me love you back. For once don't just let me fuck you."

She cast a quick look around. The place was a mess. Shattered glass and books lay everywhere, and in between, black and motionless, the lifeless figures of the four Death Eaters. She knew her petrifying spells would hold for a while longer. "Let's go upstairs," she said. "Getting pieces of patio door stuck in our backsides might kill the mood," she quipped.

His eyes flared. "Sshh! There you go again. Can't you just give it up for once? Just once?" He stood with a soft hiss of pain, pulling her up with him. She remembered the first time they had faced each other like this, close to each other, looking at each other. She had made the first move then. This time he leaned in, his heavy lids closing over his eyes as he drew closer. There was an intensity in his concentration on her that made her shiver.

He did not kiss her, but simply brought his face close to hers, nuzzling her. She felt the soft scrape of his cheek against hers, his breath close to her ear, as he held her. Then slowly, almost hypnotically, he gently kissed his way across her cheek, her temple, down the side of her nose, her upper lip, until his mouth finally reached hers. She softly hummed with the tenderness of it. As she tilted her head to kiss him, he drew back, however, and again made his lips trail across her face as if he wanted to make his mouth memorize every detail of her.

His hands came up from her sides and gently cupped her head, fingers lacing through her hair and drawing lazy circles across her scalp. "You smell like almonds," he whispered, his warm breath caressing her eyelids as he kissed across them. She closed her hands in the fabric of his robes, holding on, as she suddenly felt she could not trust her knees to keep her upright any more.

It had never been like this. They had done passionate and furious, they had fought each other for control, they had played games and kept scores, they had challenged each other to test their limits, to try the outrageous, they had measured success in the currency of stamina, of athletic ability, of how much they could stand, the amount of pleasure they could create for themselves and each other. They had done pretty much everything – just not this.

"Come," he told her quietly. "Come with me, let me show you. Let me see you, as you truly are." He laid his arm across her back and walked her from the battle scene and up the old creaky wooden staircase to her small bedroom. The sun had risen behind the chestnut tree in front of the house and now shone through the leaves painting mottled green shadows on the floor.

He stood and faced her. "Do you trust me?" he asked, and she shuddered. It had also been his question during their first night together. 'For tonight, completely,' she had joked then. She swallowed. "Yes, Lucius, I trust you," she told him. Again he moved in to kiss her face, and as his caresses reached her mouth he stayed this time. It felt like a first kiss, new somehow, tentative, even shy. She was trembling by now, aroused beyond measure, even scared, incredibly awake and alive.

He moaned softly as his tongue met hers, the vibrations of the hum shaking her, and she brought her hands up to his face, trailed her fingertips across his cheeks, his jaw-line, touching him as if she had never felt him before. The kiss seemed to last forever, and for once it didn't feel like just another piece of foreplay. It simply was itself, right then, in that very moment, and nothing else mattered or would matter – ever. 'Like there was no tomorrow,' she thought fleetingly, immersed in the touch and scent of him.

He finally released her lips that now felt stung and swollen. She looked into his eyes and smiled. "'I saw you kissing once, like a curved sword that bites with all its edge, did your lips lie, Curled gently, slowly…" she murmured. He lifted a brow, gave her a half-smile. "It's beautiful, but I do not recognize it." She brought her body closer to him. "An old poem about a lady who gets shot in her knight's arms by an arrow as they flee from their enemies, and he never realizes it. Your mouth has always reminded me of that line, the way pain and pleasure, love and death, feel so close with you."

His hands moved over the clasps and buttons of her clothes, stroking her as he slowly unwrapped her, taking his time as if she were a precious gift. "And which one pleases you more?" She placed a small kiss on his chin. "That sometimes with you I cannot tell the difference," she murmured. Fabric dropped to the floor with a soft rustle. "Yes," he told her quietly. "Death can be the greatest gift, life the cruelest curse. And pain given in love can be sweeter than pleasure given with hate. The dark arts teach this, but the white wizards don't want to know. You've always understood."

His hands trailed over her bare back and she gasped at the sudden piercing pain she felt. He looked at her in concern. "Turn around," he told her. His fingertips gently moved over her skin. "Broken glass," he said. "Hold still." She felt a sudden sharp twinge, then another one, as he pulled the shards from her in swift decisive moves. "Pain given with kindness," she smiled as he turned her back. As a response he simply held her to him and kissed her again. It did not feel as if he tried to soothe her. He had simply done what needed to be done, and now continued his exploration of her. To feel him fully clothed against her seemed strange and her hands sought for the buttons of his robes.

He appeared to be in no rush and granted her the same leisurely pace in undressing him as he had taken with her. She savored uncovering him slowly, reacquainting herself with him with strangely sharpened senses: the play of light and shade on the tendons of his neck and the ridges of his collar bones, the silky tenderness of his skin just where his pectorals met the curve of his shoulders, the scent trapped in the short wiry hair that accented his chest.

Her nostrils flared as she caught the indefinable heart-note of his smell she would have recognized anywhere as his, but it was overlaid with the sharp cold odor of agony and fear. She clenched her teeth, and as she looked at him again she now saw the faint glow of bruises under his skin, like cancer-growths of hate and malice. Her hands traced their outlines against his ribs, his abdomen, his flanks. '_Cruciatus_,' she thought, with anger welling up inside her.

For being without magical abilities, he seemed to have an uncanny ability for _legilimency_. "It doesn't matter," he told her gently. "None of it matters now." She took a deep breath and let it go. 'No plans for revenge from Lucius Malfoy, that's a novelty,' she thought idly. He truly was in a strange mood today. His touch and his caresses remained slow and gentle, but insistent, preternaturally focused. She felt drugged by them, overwhelmed, far more than by his usual more forceful love-making.

Warmth spread through her, flowed together at her core, heating her in throbbing waves of heaviness until she felt herself stagger under an invisible weight. His hands, his lips were everywhere, tasting her, kissing her, stoking, kneading. Her flesh burned. The world shrank until it fit into the small dappled space of her room, and he expanded until he filled her universe. She felt her heart race, claustrophobia stifled her. Any other time she would have backed out in some way, with a quip, with a game, but she had promised she would not hold back any more.

She allowed herself to sink into him, to allow nothing but his presence in this very moment, until she could take no more. "Need you," she gasped, clutching at him, terrified at the absolute truth in what she'd just said. His slow persistence had broken down every defense in his path. How could he make her feel like this? There had been occasions where he had had her bound, physically immobilized, at his mercy, and she had never been this vulnerable.

His face lifted from hers and he looked at her, his grey eyes heavy under lowered lids. "You have me," he said quite seriously. But he backed up to the bed and settled down on the mattress with her without letting go. They now knelt, facing each other. His lips were on her neck and she closed her eyes and tilted her head backwards, allowing him access as his teeth raked across her throat, glad for being able to break eye-contact with him for the moment. Her last vestiges of self were fraying, and yet he kept pushing. She knew wetness already slicked the insides of her thighs. How long? How much more?

When she felt his mouth leave her, she looked back up at him through half-closed eyes. The skin at her neck seemed raw and cool as the trail of his kisses dried under his breath. He sat back on his heels, his hands lying lightly on her hips, and regarded her. 'Great, just when I'm a complete mess,' Eleanor thought, but suppressed the urge to squirm under his gaze and met his eyes instead. They seemed inexplicably green in the shady twilight of her room and reminded her of cat's eyes, with the same serene predatory cruelty in their pale depths.

* * *

Lucius paused, because just then, seeing her like this, she took his breath away. Her confession earlier had come as something of a surprise to him. It did explain a lot, but its timing seemed as impossible now as it had before. He wasn't even a wizard any more. Everyone else had turned their back on him because he was now no better than a muggle. What did she want with him?

Still, he would have lied had he said it did not please him beyond measure. She had been maddeningly elusive, for all the long years he'd known her. He had soon found that her soul could not be reached through her body, no matter what or how hard he'd tried; nor through her mind, regardless of the wit and intelligence he employed. There was an innermost essence of her that seemed off-limits and that she would not let him touch. Used to possessing what he desired, he had wavered between fascination and exasperation at her refusal.

Now for the first time she had shown him a chink in her armor. She had been weak, because just then, in her living room he had been weak – he still detested himself for giving in to his depression and feelings of powerlessness before his enemies. But she had been right. She took her strength from him. So now she had countered his failing with lowering her own guard. He saw his chance, and he would not let up until he had broken through.

She knelt before him now, her slender frame swaying slightly as he gently steadied her hips. She had no words for him, no barriers to hold him at bay. The creamy skin of her breasts and neck showed the light pink marks of his mouth and teeth. Her face was flushed, her lips reddened with kissing. He knew that thin rills of crimson marked her back where he had pulled the shards of glass from her flesh. Daggers of sunlight played over the tangled mane of her coppery hair, highlighting curls like sudden leaping flames. Her eyes remained on him, steady, attentive, but not wary. There was no challenge in her gaze, just deep calm and a strange acceptance. He heard her voice again. 'I love you.'

He pulled her to him, nudging her legs apart, so she now straddled his knees. He felt her hands on his shoulders as she held on to him and found he had to look up at her now. His fingers trailed over her body, silky skin shivering under his touch. He dipped into her core and found her flooded with desire and anticipation. "This will not be quick," he murmured. "No matter how ready you are." She lowered her head and bit her full, magnificent lips.

"You can always tell,' she said, her voice husky with anticipation. He thought he detected a faint blush on her face. He placed a gentle kiss on the center of her chest. "We have possessed each other's bodies from the first night we've met, so by now I should. It's the rest of us that's another matter."

His hands traveled back to her hips, and without another word, she reached between them. Her eyes never left his as she gently trailed her fingers along the hard, heated length of his cock and placed him at her entrance. He held himself completely still in anticipation as she slowly lowered herself onto him until they touched stomach to stomach, skin gliding over skin, her ass flat against his thighs.

He felt her embrace him, her hands sensuously stroking his back and then she buried her face at the side of his neck. Their position restricted her movement and only allowed her a deep churning movement around him as she now began to restlessly rock her hips. Still he felt he had to concentrate on keeping his runaway arousal in check. He didn't want to rush. He missed seeing her, reading in her face what he was doing to her, judging how far along she was.

He ran his hands over the small of her back and licked his lips. "See me. I am right here. Don't turn away from me. Don't hide from me, Eleanor." He spoke softly, did not want to command her this time, and as she looked at him the surprise in her eyes told him that she had not expected him to ever plead with her.

He lost count of time as she moved her face over his, kissing him, letting him kiss her, whispering quietly to him what his body was doing to hers. They might have spent a lifetime in this way and Lucius slowly felt his anger, his pain and despair drain away until finally even his resolve to conquer and possess her frayed and faded. By then his body was thrumming with pent-up tension. Something had to give.

Gently he bent forwards and tilted her back, until she lay on the mattress, cradling him between her thighs. He looked down on her, his hands resting on either side of her head. She hadn't let go. He stretched out, laced his fingers in her hair and pushed deeper inside of her. A gasp from her lips and quick lowering of her lids told him what he needed to know. Holding back was not an option any more. And it seemed she felt the same way. Her hands moved down his back to clasp his ass and she urged him forward and into her, her nails digging into his flesh. "Lucius, now!" she begged him. "You're killing me."

"The both of us," he grunted and abandoned every restraint as he drove himself into her harder and faster with every thrust. He heard her cry out beneath him as her body curved around him and her core gripped him in her climax. For a moment he found himself teetering on the brink, the pressure of it unbearable. Then his own release crashed over him in waves, as he felt himself being poured into her.

He held still above her for a few moments, face buried in the pillows, catching his breath, willing his racing heart to calm. Then he lifted his head one more time to look at her. The deep green sated depths of her eyes met his gaze. She bit her lip. "Lucius," she whispered, her hand trailing over his face.

He inhaled deeply, remembering the basic principle of working magic that his father had drilled into him from the first day he could remember: 'To will, to dare, to speak, to be silent.' He was sure of his will. Did he dare speak it? He locked eyes with her and told her what should have been said a long time ago. This was his incantation, his spell to her. "I love you, Eleanor. I always will." And as he looked into her eyes, he found he could still work magic after all.

'To be silent.' He let himself sink into her smile and her acceptance and knew for the first time in weeks that no matter what had happened and what might still be in store for them, this was a respite, a moment of peace, and that he had won – they had won.

* * *

The line of poetry is taken from the poem "Concerning Geffray Teste Noire" by William Morris. 


	16. Duct Tape, Telephones and Brooms

**Duct Tape, Telephones and Brooms**

_A new broom sweeps clean, but an old broom knows all the corners. (Irish Proverb)_

"Gods, what a mess," exclaimed Eleanor probably for the fourth or fifth time now. She knelt on the floor turning over the black-clad stiffened form of yet another Death Eater. Lucius crouched next to her with a roll of duct tape.

"Who's this?" she asked. "Seth Avery," he told her with a slight mumble, as he was just busy notching the tape with his teeth in order to tear off another strip. Eleanor pulled the black leather mask from the man's face. "Ugh, and he almost made me…" she trailed off, again feeling very grateful for her new-found abilities to dodge curses. She caught herself. "Not exactly a handsome fellow," she declared, observing a heavy mono-brow, low forehead and jowly chin.

"That's why he typically needs to resort to the _imperius_ to get any." Lucius deftly placed the tape over the man's mouth. "Any reasonable witch would have to be blind drunk or on vorax to let him closer than five paces," he told her. She next resolved the _petrificus_ enough to allow them to bind the Death Eater's hands and feet together. Avery struggled feebly against the remaining magic, but could not use his mouth to curse his captors, or completely break the spell. Finally Lucius smoothed the last piece of tape down over the man's ankles and placed the roll on the very wobbly coffee table beside him.

"Tell me again, why we are this considerate, particularly to him?" he asked her as Eleanor pulled out her wand. "_Wingardium leviosa!_" she commanded, and Mr. Avery slowly floated over to join the bound bodies of his colleagues at the far side of the living-room. "Because I want us to come off as the good guys. We want you rehabilitated, right? So I don't want us to be accused of grievous bodily harm. That's why I'm replacing the spells with tape. You know how a day in a body-bind wrecks your circulation. We are going to hand these folks over to the aurors as pretty as they've come to us. And I think we have to do that soon. I don't like Bellatrix at all."

She sat down on the sofa, sheathing her wand. Lucius stood and lightly tapped the coffee table with his foot, causing the whole thing to finally collapse in a pile of matchsticks. "Well, I never much liked her," he declared, shaking his head and sitting down next to her. Eleanor flashed him a sympathetic smile.

"No, I mean she still hasn't come round yet. Her face is too grey and there's blood seeping out of her right ear. I think you may have cracked her skull." Lucius picked up his cane that leant against the side of the sofa. He casually flicked a piece of skin and hair off one of the snake's fangs. Then his hands trailed lovingly over the curve of the serpent's head. "Good," he declared. "She had it coming for a long time now."

"Well, she needs to get to St. Mungo's. I could try _empathicura_, but if she's in a coma, it would knock me out before I could either help her or myself." The wizard faced her now. "Don't even think about it," he told her sharply. "She deserves what she's got. She would have tortured you to death without giving it a second thought, and she would have enjoyed every minute of it."

Eleanor regarded him, wondering if his objection was born from hatred or some newfound protectiveness. It still felt strange being around him after his confession to her earlier. She had not expected him to reciprocate and his declaration had stunned her. At the time she had only had the energy to smile at him and hope he would understand how happy he had made her. In fact they had both been so exhausted they had slept through most of the morning afterwards.

Later, as they had got washed and dressed, and she had tried to talk about it, he had interrupted her with a kiss. "We both know, now," he said. "But what we felt existed before we said it. So nothing changes. As long as you understand the door is open now. What has been said cannot be unmade." She had been more than content to leave it at that.

And in truth on the surface little had changed. After weeks of separation she was simply happy to be around him again, and they had enough immediate concerns to keep them occupied and distracted. Just occasionally she would look at him, when she thought he wouldn't catch her at it. And a little voice inside her said: 'He loves me. He always will.' Having an owlery in your stomach didn't even begin to describe it.

Just then, some feathers softly brushed her ear as Hermes, who had observed their efforts from the top of the bookshelf swooped down and landed gracefully on Lucius' knee. The wizard stretched out a hand and gently ruffled the soft feathers below the bird's formidable beak. The owl tilted his head and closed his large eyes, enjoying the attention.

"We need to get Tethering out here, before we call the aurors," said Eleanor regarding the eagle owl, and wondering if he had recovered sufficiently to serve as their messenger. "We need his advice, and if someone like Moody shows up, I really want him as backup, too." She compressed her lips and made up her mind.

"How about I write Tethering? He'll freak if he sees any message from you, and in the meantime you could ring Marvin, let him know we're okay. I'm sure he wasn't happy to leave you to fend for yourself last night." Lucius remembered with a smirk. "No, he wasn't, but when Hermes started dive-attacks on him, he realized we meant business." He fondly looked at his owl, but then glanced over at Eleanor. "So you want me to use this telephone-contraption?" he asked.

She curved her lips in what she hoped was a sweet and innocent smile. "You wouldn't mind? It's described in chapter 8 of 'Live Like a Muggle.'" "Yes, I know, where it's described," said Lucius, rather short-spoken. "I've read it. So where's Marvin's telephone number?" He pronounced the last two words like an insult. "There's a list of numbers pinned by the phone in the hallway. His is under Oswald."

The wizard offered his arm to his owl, got up and handed Hermes to Eleanor. He seemed unhappy with the assignment. "Bloody muggle inventions," she head him mumble as he left. With a quick spell she vanished the ruined coffee table, cast a glance over at the bound Death Eaters, who with the exception of Bellatrix glared at her in open hatred and located some paper and a pen. Hermes watched her as she scribbled a quick message to the advocatus.

From the hallway she could hear Lucius' voice. "What do you mean, wrong number? This is the right number! ... Are you implying I made a mistake? … Don't you dare take that tone with me, you miserable muggle! ... Never you mind what's a muggle … Yes, and the same to you, too!" She grinned and rolled up her note. He would figure it out eventually.

The owl did not object when she fastened the scroll to his leg. Eleanor stepped over the broken pieces of the garden door to release the bird from the patio and then looked around. "What a mess," she mumbled once more and pointed her wand at the floor. "_Verrum repairo_," she intoned, but the door was too blasted to be fixed. Eventually she gave up with a sigh. One could get obviously get too good at _reducto_ spells.

"_Verrum evanesca_!" Glass flared all around her and then evaporated with little puffs of smoke and soft hissing noises. She would need to get some muggle workmen in eventually. Thankfully it was summer and warm enough to live without a door for a few days. With Death Eaters on the prowl magical wards were going to be more important than physical barriers anyway.

Lucius was talking again, but this time it seemed he was not bent on insulting some innocent muggle who had the misfortune to pick up on a wizard with an attitude. Eleanor felt an insistent growl in her stomach. With all the running around and the rescue it had been about 24 hours since she'd last eaten. She decided to fix an early lunch while they were waiting for an answer from the advocatus.

She poked her head round from the living-room into the hallway and had to suppress a smirk at the unlikely sight. Lucius Malfoy, elegantly dressed in green and black robes, leaned casually against the wall next to the coat rack where her parents' old cream colored phone hung, held the receiver to his ear and talked quite affably with a muggle. "Yes, there were four of them, and I tell you, she ran circles around them … It's a new technique we've discovered, that will revolutionize magical dueling … She has been practicing, and she was absolutely marvelous … These guys will still be wondering what hit them."

Eleanor stepped back into the living-room to wipe the grin from her face. Thankfully he hadn't noticed her. So she had impressed him with her fighting technique. It was so like him not to mention it to her face with even one word. Of course, if you were associated with the Malfoys you were supposed to be the best as a matter of course. She wondered fleetingly how that worked out for Draco, who probably never got an ounce of verbal appreciation from his father.

She sighed, composed herself and made her way to the kitchen. If she was honest with herself, she actually felt very proud of Lucius, too. He was more adaptable than he gave himself credit for, and his Slytherin spirit allowed him to work to his advantage with what he had, even if it meant using muggle technology.

As she passed him, he held out the phone to her. "Here, Marvin would like a word," he said. She took the receiver from him, suspecting he was relieved at being rid of his chore. As she greeted her old friend she felt Lucius lean in to her and whisper into her other ear with a soft growl. "Don't think I'll let you off easily for this, my dear." She shivered and it took at least one alarmed "Are you sure you are all right," from Mr. Oswald to bring her back. "Yes, yes I'm fine," she mumbled and watched the wizard walk off in the direction of the kitchen. He had way too much of a spring in his step for her liking.

* * *

A little while later Lucius and Eleanor had settled in on the patio with a selection of food. "Ah, nothing like a good Saturday brunch. I've missed that," she said and reached for some sliced cold roast beef. Lucius blew over his teacup. "What's 'brunch'?" he asked. "What we're having right now. Not breakfast any more, but not quite lunch, either. Muggles do this a lot over the weekend."

Predictably his lips curled in a disdainful sneer. "Barbaric," he declared. "I thought it was merely a case of good manners having to suffer to accommodate an emergency. But of course muggles would have a name for it." Still, she noticed with amusement that the incivility of the meal did not dampen his appetite. She suspected that he had not exactly made leaps of progress in learning how to cook in muggle fashion. After all, he didn't even have to bother about preparing his own food in the wizarding world. So the last few weeks had probably made for rather slim pickings.

"What's that?" he suddenly asked her. She craned her neck and looked behind her only to see the handle of her brand new Firebolt stick out from behind a few tall flower-pots. "Oh, new broom," she said dismissively. "Bought it yesterday in Diagon Alley." Lucius put down his cutlery. "That's a brand-new Firebolt if I'm not mistaken," he said.

He got up and retrieved the broom, weighing it in his hands. "Fully outfitted for quiddich, by the looks of it, even with foot-pegs." She leaned back. "Why, you do know your brooms, Mr. Malfoy." He gave her a long-suffering look. "Comes with the territory if your son is a seeker," he said and sat back down, laying the broom across is knees for a closer inspection. "Did you ever play quiddich?" he asked her.

She poured them both some more tea. "No, I just bought it as it came out of the box as I was in a bit of a hurry last night. I never really was into sports when I was a teen, preferred potions and mischief. Actually I almost killed myself riding that thing last night. It accelerates quite a bit." Lucius sighed. "I know, up to 150 mph in 10 seconds. I heard Draco tell me often enough when he wanted one. Actually, you should ask him for some pointers if you want to continue to use it. He's become rather good at riding it. I guess occasionally investments in him do pay off."

Eleanor gave him a quizzical look. "Only occasionally?" Lucius carefully leaned the broom against an empty chair. "Well, he made me buy a set of 14 Firebolts for the entire Slytherin team in his second year, so they would take him on as a seeker. Just to get back at Potter. Then, first match, I had to watch him fall off his broom in front of the entire school, staff and invited parents, much to my embarrassment. Talk about throwing 3500 galleons out of the window. Of course Potter fell off, too, eventually, after a bludger broke his arm, but not until he had caught the snitch and got a win for Gryffindor." She bit her lip. It seemed the incident still rankled with Draco's father.

Just as she thought of a reply, she heard a short cough behind her. She whirled around, wand at the ready and stared at Advocatus Tethering holding a broom, a large eagle owl perched on his shoulder. "Good morning," he said. "Mr. Malfoy, Professor Sartorius, so glad to see you alive." Eleanor sheathed her wand. "'Course you are," she said curtly. "We're still around to pay your fee. Have a seat."

Tethering seemed unfazed by her accusatory tone and rubbed his hands together as he saw the food laid out before him. "Nothing like a good brunch," he declared and helped himself before anyone could even invite him. Lucius lifted a brow at his advocatus. It seemed the man's knowledge of muggle mealtimes surprised him.

With the lawyer vacuuming up most of the reminder of their meal Lucius and Eleanor briefed him on the latest developments. Finally the wizard swallowed down a last piece of cold meat sandwich and indicated the gaping hole to the living-room. "So the four Death Eaters are in there, secured and ready for the aurors," he stated. "Yes," Eleanor nodded. "We need to get one of them to St. Mungo's, but the others are unharmed."

Tethering got up, all action now. "I'll handle this. I'll go to the Ministry and bring in some friendly aurors, someone on your payroll, Mr. Malfoy, or black-booked ones. They will take you both in, too, I suspect, but we'll make bail. We need to keep you both out of Azkaban, until your review comes up in a few days."

Tethering considered. "Actually this is the best thing that could have happened." Lucius glared at him. "The best thing? Marcellus, you've got to be joking. We almost got ourselves killed last night!" Tethering pulled absentmindedly at his goatee. "Exactly! Remember all the drivel about separation from the wizarding world as a prerequisite for exile? Well, they didn't separate you at all. They just squibbed you and threw you to the wolves. They really passed a horrible death sentence by _cruciatus_ or any other sick means the Dark Lord was going to use to finish you. They just have to revoke now. Splendid! Couldn't have planned it better myself."

Eleanor put a calming hand on her lover's sleeve, as Lucius had turned a rather angry shade of crimson and still didn't seem to agree with the advocatus' assessment. "What do you need us to do?" she asked. Tethering shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you like. Enjoy the sunshine in the garden, have some more tea. I'll be by with the aurors in a little while and take you all in. Actually, Professor, you could write me a power-of-attorney, so I can get the bail money for both of you from Gringotts. I guess the new Mrs. Black is sitting on all the Malfoy money for now."

Blissfully unaware of the fact that by now one of his clients was ready to explode, Marcellus Tethering waved to them, mounted his broom, spoke an invisibility spell and disappeared.


	17. Bail

**Bail **

_"The case has been going on for so long that I've forgotten whether I'm really innocent or guilty." (Ashleigh Brilliant)_

Lucius Malfoy watched as his eagle owl hunted and efficiently dispatched a squirrel halfway up the tall elm tree that shaded the garden before he finally went to sleep on one of the lower branches. The wizard had poured himself another tea and waited for Eleanor to write her bankers' authorization and for the aurors to arrive. Tethering's last remark about Narcissa still rankled. The Blacks might be pureblood, but they were not exactly wealthy, and to imagine his faithless ex-wife in control of the entire Malfoy family fortune did nothing to improve his mood.

At least with a real witch about he had been able to get out of the chore of doing the dishes after their rather impromptu meal. Eleanor had quickly enchanted a dish-brush, and things had taken care of themselves after that. "You could have left me with some dish cleaning charms to begin with," he had complained, but she had thought it would be a cute reply to kiss him on his nose, smile, and breeze out of the kitchen. His pride slightly dented, he had withdrawn to the patio.

"All done!" he heard a cheerful exclamation behind him, and looked towards the house to see Eleanor emerge with a sealed parchment scroll. Just then several muffled cracks alerted them both as a group of five aurors apparated around them, followed immediately by Advocatus Tethering. Lucius heard a groan from his lover. "Oh, Merlin, not him again!"

"Wands on the floor, hands in the air, or you will be petrified," exclaimed Alastor Moody, jabbing his wand at them. Lucius slumped back in his chair with a sigh and demonstratively crossed his arms. "Suit yourself," he drawled. "You broke my wand already. Or is your memory as haphazard as the rest of your appearance?" Moody jerked his head at two aurors, who immediately ran over to the blond wizard and pulled him to his feet, roughly securing his hands on his back with a spell.

Lucius saw that Eleanor had already placed her slim, carved cherry-wood wand on the patio floor and faced the aurors with raised hands. He watched idly as she got into a heated exchange of words with a young female auror intent on securing her wrists, who sported an enormous and very impressive black eye. "How could you do this to me?" the girl complained. "They appeared out of nowhere, arresting me as a Death Eater. What did you tell them?"

He smirked approvingly as Eleanor shrugged her shoulders in arrogant disdain. "All's fair in love and war, my dear Marigold. I had to lose you. As your former Defense teacher I have to tell you that I am very pleased you are this good at your job, but unfortunately it made me have to resort to deception. If you feel you had it rough, you should take it up with your superiors. Obviously your colleagues are taking liberties when making arrests. Or were you foolish enough to resist?"

Eventually Eleanor and Lucius were bound and lined up side by side while three aurors investigated the interior of the house. Moody strutted before them, his peg leg clicking on the slate stones under his feet. "I am placing you under arrest for aiding and abetting an exiled outlaw," he told Eleanor. "And you," he fixed both of his eyes on Lucius. "I am charging you with – with – errm, conspiring with a witch, when you are banished."

Finally Tethering stepped in. "You made that up!" he complained. "You can't charge Mr. Malfoy with anything. He is no longer of the magical realm or under your jurisdiction. Release him immediately, or I will invoke the Statutes for the Protection of Muggles from Magical Interference. You people are behaving like Death Eaters these days!"

Lucius felt grim mirth rise at his lawyer's ludicrous statement and clenched his teeth so he would not laugh out loud. The despicable and ridiculous Muggle Protection Act was invoked to keep him safe from auror arbitrariness. Arthur Weasley would probably rupture something vital if he ever got to hear about it.

The aurors started to carry out the Death Eaters, and finally Tethering had got on Moody's nerves long enough for the chief auror to snarl at two of his men to release the wizard. "After all, what's he gonna do?" he added with a sneer of contempt. Lucius felt the binding spell release his hands and cast a quick apologetic glance over at Eleanor who remained bound.

"Be careful with her," his lover exclaimed as Bellatrix was roughly added to the pile of dark-clad bound figures that began to pile up on the patio. "She's injured." Finally Moody had everyone assembled before him. He cast one last venomous look at the advocatus and then started giving orders.

"Brannock, Murphy, take Mrs. Lestrange and apparate at St. Mungo's. Keep her under guard. Report to me on her condition. The rest cut the prisoners' leg restraints so they can walk. We will apparate at the Ministry at the entrance of level 2. And someone grab a hold of Mr. Malfoy. He and his lawyer keep insisting he's a muggle and can't apparate on his own any more."

Lucius snorted in disgust at the unnecessary and callous reminder as his surroundings blinked out. A few seconds later they were being swiftly herded down a narrow corridor at the Ministry and Lucius leaned in to Mr. Tethering. "What the hell did you pick him up for," he snarled at the advocatus indicating Moody with a nod of his head.

"Believe me, I didn't seek him out," whispered Tethering. "He came barging in when I was talking to Murphy and Daclison. We needed him like you need an attack of _liquesco_-potion diarrhea."

"Precisely," said Lucius and almost stepped on Eleanor's robes as the whole group suddenly stopped. "What's going on?" asked a familiar voice. The blond wizard craned his neck and saw that they had halted to talk to none other than Arthur Weasly, who was looking at them in some surprise. "Got some of the escaped Death Eaters, Alastor? Great job! Where did you find them?"

Moody cleared his throat in some embarrassment. "Well actually we didn't, she did." He indicated Eleanor. "Did it to save Mr. Malfoy, so she's under arrest for helping an outcast wizard. One year in Azkaban I'd say. Him we'll probably have to turn lose again once we've taken his statement, I'm afraid." Weasley stepped closer. "Why, it's Lucius Malfoy. I hadn't thought I'd ever see you again," he said with some surprise.

The blond wizard lifted a brow. "Well, it seems for once we actually shared the same fond hope, Arthur. Working on a Saturday I see. And I guess you are still not getting any overtime pay, or your wife could finally stop knitting pointed tea cozies and instead buy a decent hat for you."

For being generally a mild-mannered man, Arthur Weasly started to look positively dangerous as Lucius dared to refer to his wife's knitting, but Moody stepped in, before matters had a chance to escalate. "Must rush, Arthur. Never mind him. You'll find his bark has very little bite these days. I'll see you later." He led the way as the blond wizard gave the Ministry employee a last parting sneer.

A little while later the chief auror rapped on a tall door and opened a small cramped office. He looked behind him. "Daclison, Woodbridge, take the Death Eaters to the lockup. See that they are transported back to Azkaban. Then get cracking on the paperwork. I'll catch up with you later."

Lucius watched Eleanor crane her neck as she tried to catch a glimpse of the occupant of the office, and a moment later Auror Moody had moved them in. A tall bony witch in her late forties dressed in brown robes sat behind an old broad desk and regarded them with a slight air of annoyance.

The blond wizard knew her as narrow-minded, pedantic and controlling. Unfortunately she had never put as much as a toe out of line and seemed to have no interest in money. Her rather forbidding looks had prevented him from ever trying to find out if she had an interest in anything else. She certainly and now regrettably was not on his books. Finally the ministry official put down her quill and looked up at the auror. "Yes, Mr. Moody?" she demanded. "What can we do for you?"

Moody stood up straight and made his rather lengthy report. "So to sum up: Four escaped Death Eaters have been recaptured. We also arrested Miss Sartorius, the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Durmstrang on the charge of aiding and abetting Mr. Malfoy, who is sentenced to exile. And we have taken in Mr. Malfoy, as he was – eh – as a witness." The witch folded her hands. "Congratulations on the Death Eater arrest," she said calmly. "Now what do you want me to do with these two?"

"Why, issue orders to hold them at Azkaban of course, until they can be tried," said Moody. The woman behind the desk sighed. "Mr. Malfoy has already been sentenced. We can hardly arrest him again." At that moment Lucius felt a movement at his back as Tethering stepped forward.

"If you will excuse me, Mrs. Snell, please. I am representing Mr. Malfoy and Professor Sartorius. I believe we have a date set for a revision of Mr. Malfoy's sentence?" The witch looked at him, sighed, got up and pulled a large folio from a shelf. She mumbled to herself as she read and then stabbed at a page with her finger. "Yes, review session before the wizengamot on the 21st of July. That's next Friday."

"Well," said the advocatus smoothly. "I believe it is in Mr. Malfoy's best interest to present himself at that session, as it will determine his future. Miss Sartorius' sentencing, on the other hand will depend on whether he is rehabilitated or not. If he is, she has done nothing wrong. If he isn't obviously she will need to go to trial. But until then, I believe we need to suspend judgment of her actions."

Tethering stepped up to the desk and bowed his head. "Mrs. Snell, we appeal for bail." At that Auror Moody intervened heatedly. "Just wait one damn minute! Mr. Malfoy is a convicted Death Eater, Miss Sartorius is in direct violation of the law, we can't just…" "Silence!" commanded Mrs. Snell. "I will have no hollering in my office." She regarded the whole group with a thin-lipped smile.

"Well Mr. Tethering, you make a compelling case. Mr. Moody, I can see your point, though try to be a little more subtle in your approach." She seemed to consider, but in Lucius' opinion just enjoyed having them all on tenterhooks. He would have actually sympathized with the sentiment had it not been directed at him, and decided that if he ever got back, Mrs. Snell deserved some attention. She might be bought with the prospect of power.

"Teacher at Durmstrang, you say?" the witch now asked and steepled her long fingers before her. A malicious smile curved her lips. "I will grant bail. 100.000 galleons, to be forfeit if either Mr. Malfoy or Miss Sartorius or both do not show at the review session."

Auror Moody was getting ready to object angrily until he heard the sum of money Mrs. Snell had quoted. 100.000 galleons were outrageous, a small fortune. For a moment everyone in the small room was very quiet, then Advocatus Tethering started to argue. "Ssshhh!" hissed the witch. "No ruckus in my office. I will not tell you again. Either you make bail, or I will have a portkey to Azkaban issued to Mr. Moody here. What is it going to be?"

Lucius looked over at Eleanor who had listened very calmly to the entire exchange. She had slightly cocked her head and gave the ministry official an appraising look. Finally she turned and quietly addressed Tethering. "Advocatus, please be so kind and open my belt-purse. There is a scroll in it that will give you access to my vault at Gringotts. Take what you need."

Now the surprised stares of everyone in the room were on her. Few people were aware that Eleanor Sartorius still possessed much of the fortunes of her illustrious family. She had never really spoken about it, even to her lover. And she certainly did not affect a particularly luxurious lifestyle. What actual information Lucius possessed about her holdings he had obtained through his agents. He gave her a small smile and she shrugged her shoulders. "Occasionally investments in me do pay off," she said lightly.

Then she turned to Mrs. Snell, who gaped at her. "I think you considered me a poor, underpaid teacher. I think you put the bar this high, because you didn't have the guts to outright deny me bail. I think that's despicable." The older witch drew herself up for a reply, but didn't really find much to say. Eventually she waved her hand at them.

"Mr. Moody, take them out of here. See that the advocatus puts up the money, have their statements taken down about the Death Eaters, then let them go." Moody grumbled at his orders, but there was little he could do now. Lucius leaned in on him as he led them out of the office. "Always make sure you know who you're messing with, auror," he taunted him quietly. "We are not finished yet, not by a long shot." Alastor Moody just growled at him.

Outside Tethering gave Eleanor a wink. "I think I have to recalculate my fee, my dear," he said bluntly. "You are one seriously wealthy witch." Then he took his leave to withdraw the money and the auror led his prisoners to a holding area where he finally loosened the spell on Eleanor's hands and locked them in.

The witch sat down with a sigh and rubbed her wrists. Lucius took his place next to her and turned towards her. "Thank you," he said. She lifted a hand, trailed them over the revers of his robes. "You are more than welcome to my selfishness," she teased him with a smile. "There was no way I was going to Azkaban. I'd have sold my soul to a Knockturn Alley loan-shark to avoid that. Plus, unless you give me the slip, I'll get my money back on Friday."

"Selfishness is rather becoming in you," he murmured. "I suggest you make a habit of it." She drew closer. "I have missed your bad influence for way too long now. I may have strayed into the paths of virtue in the interim," she confessed, and Lucius felt himself getting aroused at the teasing, intimate tone of her voice. Of course the surroundings were highly inappropriate, but that only added spice to the situation. "We will have to remedy that immediately," he suggested and pulled her to him to kiss her quite thoroughly. To his satisfaction she responded eagerly.

They both looked up and drew apart a little as they heard a lock turn. Eleanor cleared her throat and smoothed down her robes. A moment later two aurors had stepped into the room. "Nymphadora Tonks," said Lucius with a sneer. "Hello uncle," she replied breezily. "Not interrupting anything, am I?"

Lucius watched Eleanor lift a questioning eyebrow. "Ex-uncle, to be precise," he explained dismissively. "Daughter of Narcissa's sister Andromeda and a muggle father. I see you survived the breakout. Congratulations, not sure whether it's on your fighting abilities or just your dumb luck…"

The auror's face fell. "I was assigned somewhere else," she said flatly. "But a lot of my friends and colleagues died." Then she recovered. "I hear they are now trying to kill you, too. No longer Voldemort's golden boy, eh uncle?" Lucius compressed his lips, but didn't take the bait.

"And you are here, why?" he asked. "Nothing to do and the urge to gloat a little?" Tonks waved at the other auror who set up some parchment and a dictating quill on a side table. "Hardly, dear ex-uncle. I'm supposed to take your statements. So let's begin shall we?"

Lucius leaned back and stretched out his legs, laying his arm on the back of Eleanor's chair. He trailed his fingertips over her shoulder. "We are missing our lawyer right now," he drawled. "Oh, too scared to do anything without the wonderful Advocatus Tethering?" taunted Tonks. Lucius snorted quietly. That was a lot to take from this little mudblood punk, and for the moment his pride won out over his judgment.

"Fine," he drawled, appearing thoroughly bored. "I guess we can talk. So have you finally run out of Veritaserum after pouring the lot down my throat a few weeks ago?" Tonks pulled up a chair and looked at them. "You wish," she said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "No, you're not accused of anything at the moment. After all we can hardly charge you with recapturing a bunch of wanted Death Eaters. No potion for you this time."

A small smile played round Lucius' lips. "Very well then, what do you want to know?" "Well, first off, what were you doing at Professor Sartorius' residence?" The blond wizard felt the slightest movement under his hand as his lover's body tensed. His niece had cut right through to the heart of the matter.

He gently tapped Eleanor's back to let her know he understood and then shrugged his shoulders. "I first knew of her muggle residence six years ago. She took me there – for a night on the town. It seemed like a good place to go after you lot tossed me out without a second thought."

"So, no help from her, then?" asked Tonks. "You know very well that would have been illegal," he answered smoothly. "Plus, she told me you had her under observation all the time. Did she ever go to Ivy Crescent before last night? No? Well, then don't play dumb with me, Nymphadora."

The auror tapped her foot. "Don't call me that. I'm Tonks." Lucius regarded her with a sneer. "Really proud of our muggle father's provenance, are we? Nymphadora is a good name on the Black side. Some very fine witches bore it. You should honor it."

The woman tossed back her hair. "So who looked after you, uncle? Can't really see you pushing a trolley round the local Saintsbury's. Plus you have no muggle money." Lucius pursed his lips. "I had a muggle help me. We go quite a way back. I once tried to torture and kill him, you know. Apparently he is the forgiving sort. I am allowed to accept help from non-magical beings, am I not?"

Lucius began to enjoy the sparring. They threw questions and answers at each other, and he made a game out of how much of the truth he could tell without incriminating Eleanor. His niece was quite shrewd for her age, but still no match for him.

When she eventually concentrated on his lover he relaxed with a sense of self-satisfaction and listened to the exchange between the two women. Eleanor had obviously paid close attention to his story, and he could not pin down a single inconsistency. How stupid of the aurors to interview them together. Then again, he imagined that the escaped Death Eaters had been stretching the surviving resources to the limits these past few days.

Finally they were interrupted by a rap on the door and Advocatus Tethering entered. Tonks turned and looked at the lawyer, who triumphantly held up a payment order stamped with the Gringotts seal. "All done," he announced. "Let's get out of here."

"Fine," growled Tonks. "I guess we are finished. Of course you are lying through your damn teeth, the both of you." Lucius gave her an evil smile. "Prove it, my dear," he challenged her. She turned to her colleague and snapped at him in frustration. "Oh for Merlin's sake, put that quill away, and strike my last comment from the interrogation log, you moron."

She opened the door for them, and just as Lucius squeezed by her, she tapped his arm. "By the way, did you know, uncle, that Aunt Narcissa is making some inquiries?" The wizard felt himself frown in annoyance. "What kind of enquiries?" he asked. "Oh nothing official, but she is asking around. She is trying to find a buyer for Malfoy Manor."

"What?!" Lucius' voice stopped several Ministry officials dead in their tracks outside the interrogation room. "You lie!" The young auror shrugged her shoulders. "Why should I? She's owner of 12 Grimmauld Place now that Uncle Sirius is dead and she needs the money for renovation. You know what a dive that house is these days."

The wizard felt a red-hot haze surround him. "I swear by Merlin I'll have her…" Just then Tethering patted him on the shoulder. "Tut, tut, Mr. Malfoy. Wouldn't want to make any threats before witnesses now, would we." Lucius bit his outburst off in mid-sentence. He felt an almost painful pulse in his right temple and was sure he had not been furious like this in a very long time. Oh, she would suffer. She would not get away with this insolence.

"See you Friday, uncle," chimed Tonk's voice after him as he strode down the corridor, shouldering aside Ministry employees, careless if anyone followed him.


	18. The Hearing

**The Hearing**

_"Written laws are like spiders' webs, and will like them only entangle and hold the poor and weak, while the rich and powerful will easily break through them." (Solon, Anarchasis)_

The next few days at 27 Ivy Crescent passed quickly. Lucius spent some time holed up with Advocatus Tethering in Eleanor's old study, while at the request of her lover she made several excursions into the magical world and tried to follow up on Tonk's information regarding the sale of the Malfoy Manor. Towards the end of the week she was convinced the hearing hadn't come a day to soon. Narcissa definitely had some interested parties lined up.

On Wednesday the Daily Prophet reported the escape of Bellatrix Lestrange from St. Mungo's, and Eleanor started to have doubts with regards to the consideration she had shown the Death Eater after Lucius had struck her down. Thankfully Voldemort's minions held back for the time being, though the wards Eleanor had laid around the house were tripped a few times, mostly by muggle neighborhood children. It proved to be a certain annoyance, as Lucius kept insisting she teach the little pests a lesson and on one or two occasions took his cane and proceeded to do so himself, and she had to rush after him to first save and then obliviate them.

Finally it was Friday and accompanied by Mr. Tethering Eleanor and Lucius made their way to the Ministry for their hearing. While the lawyer seemed extremely confident, Eleanor found that her memories of her visit to Azkaban had become more vivid than she would have wished, and the idea that she might have to spend a year there under the conditions she had seen Lucius endure, dampened her spirits quite a bit.

Four aurors Eleanor didn't recognize met them in the main hall as they entered the building and swiftly led them to the large auditorium where the wizengamot was convened. Tethering took his leave of them to put on his formal robes and his clients followed the Ministry officials into the central arena.

To Lucius the arrangement now seemed oddly familiar, though he was grateful that the magical bindings on the chair remained inactive this time. Eleanor however, who had witnessed the trial from the benches in the audience and now sat on a second chair to the left of her companion, felt rather uncomfortable as the center of attention in the arena. At least the hearing had not been declared public, so only visitors with a direct link to the case or the accused were allowed to be present.

Eleanor saw Draco in one of the front seats. He had not arrived with his mother and was accompanied instead by a rather dour-looking Severus Snape. Obviously attending the revision meeting had not been the potions master's first choice of plan for the day.

Narcissa, of course still attended. As before she was accompanied by Mr. Greenleaf, and had taken her place near the judges' bench. She wore very elegant pale violet silk robes and Eleanor heard her laugh once or twice at some of her lawyer's remarks, but the looks with which she regarded her former husband betrayed a certain anxiety. It had to be a shock to see Lucius this close to the possibility of rehabilitation. Lucius himself shot her a few glances that could only be described as murderous.

Finally the aurors announced the arrival of the judges and everyone stood to show respect until they had settled in. Eleanor watched Dumbledore as he surveyed the audience, gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement and then followed the entrance of the Public Interrogator and of Advocatus Tethering. Lucius' lawyer took the floor first.

"Your honor, assembled judges. We are here today to ask for the revision of Mr. Malfoy's sentence of exile. Before I begin to make my case I would like to quote the conditions of exile as laid down in the last revision of the law in 1775. 'Let the offender be stripped of all magical abilities. Have his wand brought before him and broken, and henceforth banish him from all places of magic and the congress of all wizards and witches, to spend the rest of his natural life among muggles. Let him be given enough means as money, food and clothing to survive for the span of seven days. After such time no magical person may aid him and no one may be avenged upon him under threat of the severest penalties. So he will be dead to all wizards and witches. Let not his name be spoke, nor his grave be marked and let no one remember him.'"

Tethering pointed to Lucius. "Now let us examine how this sentence was carried out. On the 25th of June Mr. Malfoy was duly squibbed and his wand was broken, as the regulations demand. However, he was then evicted from the building into the center of muggle London wearing highly conspicuous Death Eater robes in broad daylight instead of appropriate muggle clothing. He was given no money, no food or any other means of survival. It is only thanks to his personal resilience that he managed to survive long enough in order to sit here before you today.

Still, all of this might be described as a minor oversight. However, a few weeks after the sentencing Mr. Malfoy was most viciously attacked and tortured by four Death Eaters. Their confessions are on record, and I am happy to quote from them should the court demand so. Mr. Malfoy was completely helpless at the time, as the squib hexes prevented him from defending himself even in the least against their magical attack.

How could they come after him, you ask? Easy, the court had never bothered to truly sever all magical ties between my client and the magical world. The Dark Lord had nothing else to do but to activate the dark mark, and he would know immediately where his servants could find Mr. Malfoy. The sentence this court pronounced didn't result in exile in the way it is described by law, but in effect threw this wizard to the wolves. He might as well have been sentenced to being tortured to death by the _cruciatus_ over several hours or even days and it would have achieved about the same effect. I call this an outrage! And I demand that this sentence be revoked because of the gross negligence and misconduct of the wizengamot."

Tethering stepped back with a dramatic sweep of his robes and ceded the arena to the Interrogator who began to make his case. "I have a question of my esteemed colleague. If Mr. Malfoy was rendered so helpless, and if there was such a vicious attack on him? How did he manage to survive? Why is he not dead today, starved, killed by a muggle mob perhaps, or eliminated by the Death Eaters?" Eleanor held her breath as Tethering turned to the scarlet clad official with a thin smile around his lips. The advocatus obviously liked the question, whereas she had dreaded it above all others.

"Why, his acquaintance with Professor Sartorius furnished him with the means to survive in the muggle world. Then, when she heard of the Death Eater breakout, she actually came to his rescue, of course." The Interrogator stepped forward. "Aha! So you do not deny that this witch broke the law by aiding an outlawed wizard?" The advocatus shrugged his shoulders. "Why would that concern me right now? We are not here to judge Professor Sartorius. We are here to debate the legality of Mr. Malfoy's sentencing." He looked up at the bench. "Honorable judges, am I mistaken?" An elderly witch sitting next to Dumbledore slowly shook her head. "No Mr. Tethering, you are not. Interrogator, stay on the point of debate, please."

However, as Eleanor found out during the rest of the exchange, this seemed to be a problem for the public official. Very little could be said to defend the carrying out of Lucius' sentencing, and whereas much might have been made of her involvement in the affair, Tethering ensured it was rigorously kept from the debate. While the red-haired witch found her spirits rise the longer the two men argued, she also had to admit herself that her faith in the judicial system was rapidly eroding. Any reasonable person could see that she and Lucius were patently in the wrong. Yet, the system forced everyone to wear blinkers. She began to better understand her lover's patent cynicism in his dealings with the Ministry.

Eventually the judges adjourned for a brief discussion and then Dumbledore stood to announce their decision. He regarded the people in the arena gravely, exchanged a brief glance with his colleagues and faced the almost deserted auditorium at large. "Here is our dilemma. We cannot send Lucius Malfoy back into the non-magical world without his abilities. The connection of the dark mark cannot be broken. Even if one were to cut it out with a knife, it would come back. I know because it has been tried. Voldemort's powers are indeed great and those who have been perverted by him will never be free of him again, though they may wish it. The Death Eaters will always find one of their own. And we know now that they would kill this man most cruelly. Mr. Malfoy's punishment of exile would indeed turn out to be nothing more than the most inhuman death sentence."

The public interrogator made an attempt to speak, but a gesture from the chief judge silenced him. The old wizard leaned forwards and now his piercing blue eyes looked directly at the accused before him. He seemed to have forgotten about his colleagues and any spectators. "Lucius Malfoy, the loyalty of one friend and the mercy of this court have kept you from prison and death. And the love of this woman has saved your life. Whatever success you may attribute to your lies and cunning and the legal skills your wealth has bought you has not come to you because of any of your own merits, but as a gift and wholly undeserved by you. If you dare look into your own soul, if you have one spark of honor in you, you will acknowledge the truth in what I say."

Eleanor looked sideways at the man sitting next to her. His mouth was fixed in a harsh line of defiance, and his steel-grey eyes regarded Dumbledore with a look of intense hatred. The two wizards held each other's gaze for a long time. Finally Lucius was the one to break contact. He lowered his lids and then she saw his eyes come to rest on her. Their expression softened. "I will never acknowledge anything to you, old man, as long as I live," he said. "But she knows the truth."

"Then we will announce our decision," said the chief judge, and the aurors commanded everyone to rise. "It is the will of this court that Lucius Malfoy be restored to his magical abilities and he be received again into the wizarding community. This court regrets that no other legal options are open to them if they wish to protect this man from a hideous death. We cannot now transmute the sentence into another such as imprisonment as this is prohibited to us by law. As this court was unable to properly carry out the sentence of exile, any help that Eleanor Sartorius may have rendered Mr. Malfoy in the interim can not be defined as directed at an exiled outcast, and therefore she has not broken the law.

We realize of course that Mr. Malfoy's ultimate sentence stands in no relation to the crimes he has committed. However, we hope that injustice that errs on the side of mercy is to be preferred to injustice that errs on the side of cruelty and hatred. If we are to fight the darkness that lies before us, then every drop of blood we spill without need will only give strength to our enemy. So mote it be." Dumbledore paused. "I hope you will remember this day, Lucius Malfoy. And when you have an enemy at your feet, imploring your mercy you will think back to this and grant it."

The blond wizard tossed back his hair with an arrogant lift of his head, but Eleanor could see no sign of satisfaction or triumph on his face. "I already have," he said, contempt coloring his voice. His eyes fixed on the chief judge, then flitted over to where Draco sat in the first row of the visitors' benches. "I saw the knife marks that were to excise the mark for myself, yet I have remained silent these years. You know what I speak of."

Dumbledore appeared lost in thought for a moment, then he held up his hand and invited the other judges to accompany him to the arena where again they formed a circle around Lucius quietly intoning the incantations that would lift the squib-hex. Golden light broke from their wands and swirled round the man in their midst, and when they finally lowered their magical weapons Lucius Malfoy slowly lifted his arms, threw back his head and shouted up towards the high vaulted ceiling above him in pure animal exultation. Blue static crackled along his body for a few seconds and Eleanor watched some of the aurors shrink back in alarm. She was fairly certain that many in this room questioned Dumbledore's wisdom in setting the former Death Eater free in their midst.

Seconds later, however, Lucius appeared firmly in control of his emotions and with a quick commanding jerk of his head signaled to Advocatus Tethering, who stopped the judges from ascending back to their seats. Dumbledore inclined his head to listen to the lawyer and then turned. "Before this hearing is adjourned we have one last matter to take care of. Advocatus, if you will. Everyone, please be seated."

Tethering gave the judges a moment to settle, then unfurled a piece of parchment and began to read. "At the session of the wizengamot on the morning of the 25th of last month Mrs. Black, formerly Mrs. Malfoy saw fit to announce the revocation of her handfasting. My client has not yet had an opportunity to respond to this announcement. However, he wishes to do so now. Let it be known that Lucius Malfoy accepts the revocation – under the conditions of the marriage contract that was drawn up at the time of the handfasting between his father, Octavian Malfoy and the bride's father, Arcturus Black. The contract is available on the public record as _mancipium_ number 27852/C. However, we would like to reiterate the main points of this agreement.

Firstly, that should Narcissa Black be found responsible for the dissolution of the marriage she be rendered without claim or title to the possessions of the House of Malfoy. She will receive the current equivalent value of her dowry back and for her disgraceful behavior lose any right to proclaim herself mother of the offspring that might have resulted from the marriage in the meantime.

Secondly, that should Lucius Malfoy be found responsible for the dissolution of the marriage he be rendered without claim or title to the possessions of the House of Black. He will make no further demands of the House of Black and for his disgraceful behavior will lose any right to proclaim himself father of the offspring that might have resulted from the marriage in the meantime. His former children will henceforth bear the name of Black.

In either case the injured party may abstain from enforcing this contract should they be so inclined."

By this time pretty much everyone in the auditorium had craned their necks to gauge the reaction of Lucius' former wife who sat deathly pale and stiff as a poker to the side of the bench of judges. She had not made a sound. Tethering looked up for a moment, then cleared his throat and continued.

"Clearly in this case there can be no argument against the fact that Mrs. Black is the one responsible for dissolving the handfasting. Because of certain facts that have come to Mr. Malfoy's attention in the meantime, such as Mrs. Black's attempt to willfully sell his son's ancestral home for her own gains, he wishes to exert the full measure of punitive provisions of the marriage contract.

Narcissa Black, supervised by myself, you will proceed immediately to Malfoy Manor, there to collect your personal belongings and vacate the premises forthwith. You have two hours to do so. If you wish Draco Malfoy may accompany you and you may take your leave of him. He will henceforth cease to legally be your son and you will not be allowed any further contact with him, until he has come of age and will decide for himself how to conduct himself towards you. Tomorrow Gringotts bank will make restitution of the current value of your dowry to you in the amount of 85.327 galleons, 7 sickles and 3 knuts."

The lawyer lowered the parchment and looked at his employer whose gaze was fixed upon his former wife. Narcissa had sat through the entire declaration without any show of outward emotion, but at the mention of taking her leave from her son she had staggered to her feet. "You monster," she shouted down at Lucius now. "You cannot take my son from me! How dare you?!"

The wizard's voice cut through the deadly silence of the hall like the crack of a whip. "Draco," he commanded. "To me!" Malfoy junior cast a quick glance at Professor Snape, then got up, walked around the row of benches and joined his father in the arena. Lucius laid a possessive arm around his back, then lifted his face to look again at Narcissa. "As a witch you should know that every act of will, every spell and every incantation has consequences, desired as well as undesirable. Did you think you could challenge me in the way you did and not feel the results? I believe I must have once loved you, otherwise how could I have overlooked such glaring stupidity for so long. Still, it is never too late to teach someone a lesson in life. Consider it a boon born from my former affection that I make the concessions I do."

He exchanged a quick glance with his son. "Go to her," he said quietly. "I will see you at home in a little while." Then he added in a louder voice. "The clock is ticking, dearest. If you want to pack up all your beautiful dresses, I suggest you be quick about it."

Narcissa bent down and started to hurriedly whisper with Advocatus Greenleaf while Tethering gave Lucius a curt nod and made his way up the benches to meet them. The other members of the scant audience had stuck their heads together and started to discuss the startling new developments in the ongoing Malfoy scandal until Dumbledore's gavel restored a moment of order and silence. "This hearing is adjourned!" he called, then looked at Draco who followed Advocatus Tethering to join his mother and shook his head. Eleanor thought she could see his lips form the word "mercy".

She turned to her companion. "That was a bit harsh don't you think?" she said, her voice carefully neutral, and had Lucius' immediate and slightly unwelcome attention. "My dear, this is between me, Draco and Narcissa," he said firmly, and the flash of his grey eyes that hit her warned her not to pursue the matter further. "Yes, and I'm just the mistress," she muttered, turning from him, but he immediately stepped in her way, his hand reaching under her chin.

He brought her head around to look at him with just enough force to get her attention. "You are never _just_ the mistress and you know it! But right now you could be Merlin's mother and I would still tell you to mind your own business," he said. "What Narcissa did is unforgivable. I will have my revenge for her audacity and will punish her embarrassing stupidity."

He regarded her for a moment, waiting for her acknowledgement, then his face slowly relaxed and a small smile played round his lips. He gripped her arms in his hands and held her. "My love, I am a wizard again," he said, his voice tight with emotion. He hesitated, then spoke quietly, but distinctly. "I lost everything and you gave it back to me. I would never admit it to the old fool who just judged me, but I want you to know that I will never forget what you did for me. Lucius Malfoy has rarely ever acknowledged a debt, but this one I will – to you." He leaned in on her with a fait leer. "I may even forgive you your muggle-stunts like dishwashing and telephoning one of these days."

She smiled and relaxed and felt that Lucius' exultation radiated out from him until it reached her, too. She ran her hand over his chest, assuring herself she wasn't dreaming. "Yes," she said happily. "Back to working magic again. Lucius, I would have never dared hope for such an outcome when I first got word of your arrest and when I saw you in Azkaban."

The courtroom had emptied, and Lucius laid his arm around her walking her out of the arena. "See, that's what we need to work on. Your level of honest arrogance leaves much to be desired, whereas your hypocritical humility is just unbecoming in a pureblood. I for my part never had a doubt." She followed his lead and shook her head.

"So where do we go from here?" she asked. Lucius turned his head and looked at her while gallantly holding open the elevator doors that would take them to street level. "_Ollivander's_ in Diagon Alley. I really feel naked without my wand. And I am sick and tired of having to hit people over the head with my cane. It lacks class and subtlety and feels just too – muggle-like."


	19. Malfoy Manor

**Malfoy Manor**

_"Anyone can hate – it costs to love." (John Williamson)_

Lucius and Eleanor apparated in front of Malfoy Manor around dusk. The wizard had insisted on enchanting the portkey for them as a test of his restored abilities and now looked at his new wand with some satisfaction, before he slid it back into its cane sheath. Just then they heard the agonized scream of a woman around the side of the house. "Draco! Narcissa!" cried the wizard and sped off in the direction of the voice. Eleanor grabbed her wand, gathered her robes and ran after him around the south wing of the manor. She stopped short when she rounded the building and saw the gathering of people on the lawn behind the house.

Draco stood rooted to the spot on the round gravel bed in the center of the garden. He held out his wand and supported himself with his left on the stone sun-dial next to him. A tall, black-robed figure threatened him with pointed wand. At his feet lay a grey-clad bundle that Eleanor assumed had to be either Tethering or Greenleaf. A few paces away a woman in flowing robes pleaded with outstretched arms. "No, don't harm him! Please!"

"He is the warlock's son. He must die, sister." Eleanor recognized the slightly hoarse voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. The Death Eater lifted her wand and began to intone the killing spell. The other witch ran forwards with a shrill shriek to intervene, and at the same moment Lucius dashed towards them with a roar of fury. Rooted to the spot and too far away to help or hinder, Eleanor watched as green fire broke from Bellatrix' wand and hit Draco squarely in the chest. "Oh gods, no!" she groaned, only to feel a sudden rush of cold air behind her and hear a dark chuckle that reminded her very much of Lucius.

She whipped around and stared into the gleaming grey eyes of the younger Malfoy. "Snape's right. It bloody works," he grinned, but then clutched at her as he saw the deadly spell pass right through the _imago_ and a few stray tendrils of it enwrap Narcissa who had now approached close enough. She screamed and fell just as Lucius reached her.

The wizard didn't even pause to check on her. Eleanor heard a bellowed "_Crucio_!" and then Bellatrix went down with a horrible cry of pain. Draco didn't bother to reapparate in the place of the _imago_, which now slowly began to fade, but simply sped towards the prone figure of his mother and Eleanor followed him. She found the young wizard crouched on the ground cradling Narcissa's head. She knelt down next to him.

"She's breathing," he called out to her over the horrible screams that tore from the tortured body of his aunt. "Put some invigorating spells on her," Eleanor shouted back. "Keep talking to her. Keep her conscious." She got up and warily approached Lucius, who towered over the body of his victim, every ounce of his hatred focused through his wand and pouring into the howling woman at his feet.

She clenched her teeth as she regarded him. In all her time with him, she had never seen him like this, and she was for once truly terrified of him. It seemed he had cast off the outer shell she'd known for all these years to reveal a terrible spirit burning within him that shone with a blindingly painful inhuman light. His dark robes billowed around him as if stirred by the force of an inner gale, and his blond hair poured over his shoulders like white-hot liquid flame.

"Lucifer," she whispered recognizing the force that pulsed through him, and then, gathering what was left of her courage and will-power, she put her hand on his arm. He felt as rigid as if he had been cast from steel, with a current of pure fury humming through him. She had never felt raw magical energy like it and staggered under the impact.

Slowly he moved his head from the Death Eater and looked at her. It seemed to take an eternity before she saw the spark of recognition in the glowing depths of his eyes. His nostrils flared as he regarded her, still holding his concentration and the curse and then slowly he opened his mouth, his voice a strained hiss, barely audible over the screams. "You love me? This is who I am. Leave me be!"

His words cut through her and she tore her hand from his arm, taking a horrified step back from him. "Help them! Secure the house. Defend my son!" he called out to her, then bent his will back to Bellatrix. As she turned to leave she heard him incant a new curse. "_Discoriatio_!" She averted her head and stopped her ears, sobbing in shock. Lucius had decided to flay his sister-in-law alive.

Just then she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and as she whirled round she realized that Bellatrix had not come alone after all. The Death Eater who approached them with lifted wand was cut down by a sharp command, however, and as Eleanor tracked the path of the spell that had stopped him, she saw Advocatus Tethering step out at her through a gap in one of the boxwood hedges.

"I think that's the last of them," he said calmly as he approached her sheathing his wand, apparently unfazed by the horrible screaming that filled the garden and that now slowly deteriorated into gurgling animal noises removed from anything remotely human.

He blinked as he saw the expression on Eleanor's face and shrugged his shoulders. "He's just having a bit of fun. He sometimes goes off like that. It'll be over, soon," he said. "We'll just have to get rid of the body later, or the aurors will be shitting kittens. Malfoy's toys never look pretty when he's done with them."

The witch swallowed. "How many are there – were there?" she asked. "Oh, Bellatrix and two others. I did a location spell to confirm. One of them got Greenleaf, but I think he's still alive, little useless twerp. I petrified that one when he was busy cursing the advocatus. He's in the rose bushes over there. The other kept back, until now. How's everyone else?"

Eleanor dug her nails into the palms of her hands. She wanted nothing more than to silence Bellatrix, to kill her, to make the noises stop. How could Tethering talk to her as if they were having a polite conversation over scones and tea? She fought down her strong impulse to yell at him and focused. "Narcissa's got a slight dose of the _avada_. Draco is fine," she said tersely and turned on her heel.

She tried not to look at Lucius as she rejoined his son and crouched down next to him. "How is she," she asked. Draco turned his head towards her. "Still there," he said. He looked pale and frightened. "You talked to father?" He looked uncomfortable now. Eleanor took a deep breath. "He has unfinished business with your aunt," she explained. "Try to concentrate on your mother, Draco. She needs you right now. He doesn't."

She laid her hand on Narcissa's chest to feel for signs of life, and the woman opened unfocused pale blue eyes. "You!" she hissed. Eleanor lowered her head. "You took him." "No, Mrs. Black." "You took him from me!" The accusation stung, untrue as it might be. "No one can take from you what you truly possess," she said quietly. "He had stopped being with you long before I met him. I merely picked up what was already discarded."

She realized suddenly that it was possible to hear oneself speak again. The garden around them had turned deadly quiet. A moment later she felt movement at her side. Lucius was kneeling down next to her. The coppery scent of blood that rose from his robes sent a wave of dizziness over her and she lifted her head to look at him.

His pale mask-like face and hair shimmered strangely in the rising darkness, but his eyes that briefly met hers looked human and focused again. He held her gaze for a moment, giving her a curt nod. Then he reached over to his son. Eleanor saw that his hand was spattered with blood. "Are you all right, Draco? Are you injured?" his voice sounded strained and urgent. "I'm, I'm fine, father. Aunt Bellatrix, is she…?" Lucius eyes flared up at his son. "Never speak her name again to me. Do you hear me! Never!" The younger Malfoy cringed. "Yes, father," he said quietly.

Lucius looked up. "Marcellus," he called. "Get rid of the body for me. Call the healers. And by Azrael, for once, keep the damn aurors away from me!" Eleanor heard the advocatus' reply from a short distance. "I'll take care of it Mr. Malfoy."

At the sound of Lucius' voice Narcissa opened her eyes again. "Lucius," she whispered. The blond wizard reached out and took his wife's hand in his, leaving bloodstains on her light robes. "I'm here," he said calmly. "Why?" she asked, her voice a pained whisper. "Why does it end this way?" He regarded her and Eleanor could see neither love nor hate in his eyes, just a great dull weariness. "It was your will," he told her. She shook her head. "I never wanted this," she said. "That's a pity," he replied but his voice remained neutral, pitiless. He lifted his head for a moment. "You never knew what you really wanted, Narcissa. And it was unfortunate that when our fathers decided our fate for us, neither did I."

He placed her hand back on her chest in a gesture that seemed strangely final. "We should never have been forced together. Take back of your life what you can. Truth be told, seeing you ready to risk your life for my son, I can bear you no ill-will, despite your actions over the last few weeks, and I will always be thankful to you for giving me Draco." He paused for a moment. "For his sake, see him if you will and if he wants to. I do not forbid it. But I will not speak to you again. Just one last thing remains."

Narcissa's eyes had traveled over to her son, and she smiled at Draco, who had touched her shoulder. Now she focused back on Lucius. "What?" she asked him. "Your wedding band. Give it back to me. It was my mother's and you do not deserve to bear it any more." The witch's eyes narrowed and her lips curled in a sneer. "You and the damn Malfoy name and property, that's all that's ever mattered to you. If you want it, take it!" she dared him.

Eleanor looked over to Lucius. For a moment he stilled, his only movement a brief twitch of his jaw. Then he bent forwards, lifted his wife's left hand and with one swift movement stripped a filigreed gold band flecked with the green spark of emeralds off her finger. He replaced her hand with surprising gentleness and got up in one fluid movement. "Farewell, Narcissa," they heard his quiet voice from above. Then he turned away from them with a soft rustle of his robes.

A moment later they were alerted by the cracks of several apparitions around them. "Lumos," cried a voice, and swift steps hurried over to them. Two robed figures knelt down and Eleanor described to the mediwizards what had happened. They immediately busied themselves with the injured witch, and Eleanor laid a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Come on," she told him quietly. "Let's not get in the way. They'll take good care of your mother. Perhaps you can go to the hospital with them later, if you wish and your father allows it." Reluctantly the younger Malfoy got up and allowed her to lead him a short distance away.

Eleanor saw another two healers busy with the unconscious Mr. Greenleaf. She walked over to them. "Is he alive?" she asked. A woman looked up at her. "Barely," she said. "A bad case of some weird bone-breaking spell I have never seen before. These Death Eaters are a sick bunch, really! Are there any other injured?" For a moment Eleanor thought about Bellatrix and with bile rising in her throat, she shook her head. She was used to lying for Lucius by now and the words came over her lips with no effort. "No, no one else you can help. There are two petrified Death Eaters, but they are not injured."

She turned away and looked around her. She was finally alone. A full summer moon had risen behind the dark walls of the manor and now illuminated the garden with gentle, silvery light. Tethering was talking to two aurors who busied themselves with securing the two remaining Death Eaters. Draco had returned to his mother and hovered anxiously around the mediwizards who were now carefully levitating her body onto a stretcher. She took a deep breath and realized she shivered violently. Even hugging herself did not seem to help.

For the last few weeks, she hardly had time to think. All her energies had gone into saving her lover with barely a moment of focus on herself, and she had succeeded. Lucius was back, reinstated as a wizard and as Lord of Malfoy Manor.

During their struggle, and after six years of rigid self-control, she had at long last allowed herself to confess her feelings for him. And tonight she had finally seen the true nature of the man she professed to love. She had come face to face with what she had tried to protect herself from during all this time. He had shown her, and in the midst of his vicious, murdering fury, he had asked for her acceptance. 'You love me? This is who I am,' she heard him say again.

She shook her head, remembering her own words. 'I love you. I always have.' "Triple goddess," she whispered to herself. "Help me. How can I?" Suddenly hands grasped her shoulders from behind and she jumped in shock. His voice was next to her ear and she felt herself cringe in fear.

"I would," he murmured savagely. "No matter what you did. No matter who you were. No matter what I learned about you. I always will." She turned around and faced him, ready to confront him in anger, when she saw the wet glint of moonlight in his eyes. He raised his head, his jaw jutting out in defiance. "I would have done the same for you as I did for Draco. No one threatens those I love – ever. And my revenge will be as terrible as my hatred."

"'No one provokes me unpunished,'" she quoted, looking up at him in understanding. "No one," he confirmed. He wrapped his hands around her arms, shook her for emphasis. "You told me you had always loved me. You trust your memories, your experience, you love what you know. You still don't take risks." He paused, and she realized he needed to stop to collect himself, to keep his voice from breaking.

"Who do you love? Me, or the man you think I am, the man you wish I was?" She closed her eyes, felt tears welling up. "You," she whispered. "I am trying to love you." "But you are afraid of me." She nodded. "Yes, Lucius."

To her surprise he smiled. "As you should be," he said. "As I am mortally afraid of you. You could destroy me with one breath, one word, you know? We could annihilate each other. Love is the most powerful magic of all. It is dangerous. It is deadly. Yet I trust you." He looked at her. "I will never harm you," he said fiercely.

She finally managed to bring herself to touch him back. "You never have," she told him quietly. "I believe you, because of my memories. I trust you, because of what I know about you. Perhaps I can come to terms with the man I saw tonight, because of our past. But I need time. You are safe now. So is Draco. I need to get back to Durmstrang. I have to…"

"No!" he interrupted her. His grip on her tightened to almost painful intensity. "No more running, Eleanor! If you love me, stay with me. I need you." He paused, bit his lips. "I have no one left if you go." To her surprise she felt his hands relax, however, and he actually released her, as if he was giving her a choice after all. "Please stay." He looked at her, took a deep breath and stepped back. "But I will love you, even if you go," he said.

For a moment her will hung in the balance, then she heard swift steps appear behind her. "Father," called Draco. "Can I go to St. Mungo's with mother if Advocatus Tethering is coming with me?" 'No one left,' she thought. She bridged the small gap between herself and Lucius and laid her arm around his hips as he turned to answer his son.


	20. A Proposal

**A Proposal**

_"It's in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped." (__Anthony Robbins)_

It was a hot, sun-drenched afternoon in the middle of August. Nibbs, the Malfoy house-elf and two of his friends and fellow-servants sat on a low stone-wall that separated the enchanted grounds of the Manor from the fields outside the small Wiltshire hamlet of Gillington. The air was filled with the hum of threshing machines bringing in the grain harvest.

"Just like every year," sighed Nibbs and dabbed his huge phosphorous eyes with the dirty dish-rag that saved as his loin-cloth. "There they go destroying all the beautiful corn-circles we made all summer with the elves from the other houses. Now we have to wait till spring to continue the game."

The small elf to his right clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll make nicer designs next year," she said. "But listen, we better get back to the house and get started on dinner. Master said, that if we messed up, he'd forget all the nice promises he made the new mistress. After all, it's for her birthday, and we have a guest, too." The three elves hurriedly hopped off the low ledge and disappeared with a series of soft popping noises, leaving the muggles and their harvest machines to themselves.

As they apparated in the cool, dim, marble-clad entrance hall of Malfoy Manor and scurried towards the kitchens they almost ran headlong into Eleanor Sartorius, who walked down the hallway with a young auror. "Sorry, Nibbs bad," babbled one elf in alarm and prostrated himself. Eleanor interrupted her conversation and bent over him. "You don't have to do that, Nibbs" she admonished him. "Not for me anyway." "Yes, sorry mistress, Nibbs forgets," stammered the elf and got up again, dusting down his dishrag. Eleanor sighed. "And please stop apologizing. A delivery guy came by an hour ago and brought the meat and the other top secret stuff I'm not supposed to see that Mr. Malfoy ordered. It's in the kitchen."

The elves ran on and Eleanor turned back to her guest. "Anyway, as I was saying, Marigold, I went up to Durmstrang for a day earlier this week and talked to Professor Magnusdottir, the headmistress. I've resigned as head of House of Fire and given up my residence, but I will continue to apparate in the mornings and teach Defense classes once the school year starts.

I just feel I need to be based here these days. The danger from the Death Eaters isn't over, not by a long shot. Voldemort is a stubborn bastard, and he really wants to eradicate the Malfoys from the face of the earth. Anyway, if you can help us organize adequate magical defense, I'd be happy to teach you and your friends here for an evening every week."

Auror Brannock pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and looked at her former teacher. "What about Mr. Malfoy?" she asked. "He isn't exactly – errm – sympathetic to our agenda. Won't he mind hosting us?" Eleanor laid her hand on the witch's shoulder. "I've talked to him. He's not quite planning on coming by and socializing." The young auror sighed in relief, and Eleanor barely suppressed an amused chuckle. "But he has no objections. Are we agreed then?"

They had reached the tall entrance portal and shook hands. "I will see you and your colleagues next Thursday at seven, then," said the red-haired witch and opened the door. "Remember to disapparate only at the end of the drive way, once you are past the wards," she called to the auror as Marigold Brannock turned to her at the bottom of the steps and waved.

Eleanor smoothed down her robes and with a smile closed the portal on the bright hazy summer afternoon. It was only the eve of her birthday, but she had already had all her wishes granted. Lucius and she were back at Malfoy Manor for the summer, and this September there would be no good-bye. Finally, for the first time discretion also was a thing of the past. She could walk the halls in broad daylight. She could invite and talk to guests as mistress of the house.

The last week Draco had spent with his mother at Grimmauld Place, and Eleanor still blushed at her memories of Lucius' bold plans to christen various places of the manor that had been off-limits before. He had converted Narcissa's old bedroom and suite into an alchemy study, and she was sure she would never again be able to work with him at the central laboratory table without turning beet-red. Without a conscious decision, her steps had led her up the stairs and to the library where she knew she would find her lover waiting for her.

* * *

Severus Snape sank his delicate silver dessert spoon into a virtually nonexistent cloud of dark chocolate mousse garnished with plump black cherries. A hint of the tart taste of blackcurrants mingled with the decadent bitter sweetness of chocolate as he gently swirled the confection around his mouth. He barely suppressed a shiver of delight as a wave-front of goose-bumps slowly rippled down his back. 

Damn Lucius Malfoy, his money, his house-elves, and his parties. And if he didn't have enough to envy the man for, the woman sitting across the table from him, who now raised her glass of velvety dark wine to her blond lover just stole the cake.

When Eleanor Sartorius had first come to Hogwarts, he had felt mildly interested, but his customary mistrust and cynicism had let him see little more than a moderately attractive, smart, if inexperienced colleague. Even now, when she had unexpectedly come back to challenge Dumbledore a few weeks ago, he had merely felt annoyance at her audacity. His memory bore no comparison to the stunning beauty that now faced him.

Eleanor wore a deep midnight blue, dangerously low-cut velvet dress with a tight-fitting bodice and long flared sleeves. Her flaming-red tresses were pinned to the crown of her head in carefully planned negligence with some escaped curls framing her delicate oval face. Her eyes, which he remembered vaguely as green glowed with an intensely dark blue fire. She wore no jewelry, except a thin silver choker encrusted with moonstones that accented the elegant curve of her slim neck and her broad gold family signet ring with a deep blue lapis. He noted with some surprise that Lucius wore a similar ring on his little finger as he now lifted his glass to toast her back.

Severus blinked and took a sip of wine to distract himself. They sat in a small, intimate dining room that faced the carefully tended Manor gardens. Candlelight caught in the cut crystals of a large chandelier that hung above the sumptuously arrayed dinner table and suffused the room in soft rainbow hues of golden light. An enchanted harp played quietly in the corner, and house elves appeared and disappeared with catlike silence and the precision of clockwork to remove empty dishes and refill platters and glasses.

"…what do your think, professor? – Professor?" The potions master snapped out of his envious reverie and faced Draco, who was sitting next to him. "Sorry, you were saying?" he asked. Eleanor gave a soft laugh from across the table. "I think your fabulous dessert has finally bewitched our incorruptible master alchemist, Lucius," she teased her lover. "As it has me. You have planned a divine meal. And this, my dear is ecstasy in a bowl. Morgan le Fay must have concocted this for Merlin, to make him her slave." Lucius lifted her hand and kissed it with a suggestive wriggle of his eyebrows, and Severus found he was now about ready to vomit his entire sumptuous dinner under the table.

"Yeah," said Draco next to him with the world-weariness of an almost sixteen-year-old. "Makes you want to run to the dungeons and dig out the old steel chastity belt, doesn't it? Can I come back to school, please? I just can't take it any more." "Draco!" threatened Lucius from across the table, but for once his voice lacked actual menace. Severus lifted an eyebrow. "I think you have to," he answered his student. "I can hardly stand by and see one of my charges corrupted in this manner."

Lucius took another draught of wine. "Sorry Severus, but parents should bear the sole responsibility for the corruption of their children. As children should be the sole corruptors of their parents. No outside interference allowed." Eleanor ran her fingers across the back of her lover's hand and savored a spoonful of dessert. "So, speaking of tending to the interests of your students, I see you taught Draco the means to escape the unforgivables." Severus nodded, feeling on slightly safer grounds with the new line of conversation.

"Well, you asked me to keep him safe, and I thought Draco might need it. I am sure we will be teaching all the students once the new school year starts. We've named it the 'Sartorius Feint'. Albus thought it was appropriate, despite the rather underhanded way in which you peddled your knowledge." He noted that the witch blushed at that. "Why, I am honored. I think it has a nicer ring to it than 'Karkaroff Maneuver', even though there is some poetic justice in naming a Death Eater defense weapon after a deceased ex-Death Eater."

They eventually finished their dessert, and at the invitation of the Lord of the Manor moved to a conservatory at the back of the house that opened up to the gardens. The elves lit a fire-pit and they listened to the soft chorus of frogs and crickets from the dark trees of the park behind the clipped lawns. Lucius opened a bottle of twenty-five year old single malt and poured four generous glasses. "One, son," he pronounced, as he handed a heavy glass tumbler to Draco, "Then you're off to your room." The young wizard took the glass with a grin. "Yes father," he said.

Severus stretched in a comfortable wicker chair and gingerly moved his nose across his glass savoring the spicy malt and peat scent of a truly splendid premium whisky. They talked about inconsequential school gossip until Draco finally took his leave. As the younger Malfoy was out of earshot, the potions master finally sat up straight and faced his hosts. "I have to say I am puzzled," he confessed. "This is obviously a rather intimate family party. I may flatter myself that you feel indebted to me for looking after Draco, and I know we used to hang out in the Slytherin common room as students, Lucius, but despite our common work for the Dark Lord we are not exactly bosom friends. Why invite me tonight?"

Only the crackle of burning wood broke the silence for a while, then finally Lucius began to speak. "Severus, you may contradict me, but I believe we are having more in common than you think." Snape gave a small derisive snort and looked around at his luxurious surroundings. "You could have fooled me," he said coolly. The blond wizard seemed undeterred. "We are both outsiders. We are both sitting precariously on the fence that separates the so-called bad guys from the good, or am I mistaken?"

The potions master's face grew very still. "What makes you say that, Lucius?" he asked cautiously. The former Death Eater laughed quietly. "Simple, Severus. Eleanor told me that she revealed the Sartorius Feint to both you and Dumbledore. She could not have known you secretly are a Death Eater." "What?!" Severus watched the red-haired witch almost drop her drink, but the elder Malfoy placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "Keep listening, sweet. No need to be alarmed."

"Anyway, your first duty would have been to inform the Dark Lord of your knowledge. Yet, every single Death Eater we have fought since has been ignorant with regards to the new technique. So you obviously failed in your loyalty. You also kept my son safe instead of killing him as your master had commanded the Death Eaters. You deserve death for that. I also believe that Dumbledore trusts you, despite the fact that he knows about certain tell-tale scorch marks on your left arm."

Lucius leaned back and took a slow sip of his whisky, regarding his guest over the rim of his glass with a predatory glint in his eyes. "The Dark Lord and I had suspected for some time we have a traitor in our midst. I remember the time several years ago, when you tried to cut the mark from your arm. Dumbledore referred to it during the hearing, so he knew of your attempt to free yourself. At the time you told me you had a potions accident, but I was suspicious, though I held my tongue. I thought you would be more useful to me alive than as a piece of flayed meat at my feet. Now I am convinced that I was right, Severus. Come on, be a man about it. What do you say?" Eleanor watched the two wizards silently seize each other up. Then Severus Snape licked his pale lips. "If it were true, what would you do with that knowledge, Lucius?"

The blond wizard gave a mirthless chuckle. "Absolutely nothing, Severus," he said. He swiftly leaned forward. "I don't know what harebrained idealism you were besotted with when you turned from our path and became a traitor, but you still call the 'muggle-borns' mudbloods when no one hears you, am I right?

I on the other hand was turned against my master under duress. I was made a warlock against my will, and now by a twist of fate we meet in the same place, between the battle-lines of this great war. You by choice, I by force. It is a dangerous place, and frankly I am looking for allies. We may not necessarily have the same friends or loyalties, but we do have the same enemies. Help us, and we will help you."

Snape pushed a stray strand of lank hair out of his face and considered. When he spoke, Eleanor thought she might hear Salazar Slytherin himself talk. "Fine, Lucius. Say we cooperate. What do you stand to gain? And more importantly, what's in it for me." Her lover gave their guest an approving nod then turned to his companion. "What do you think, Eleanor? Tell him."

The witch exchanged a quick glance with the blond wizard. Snape had to admit she had recovered very well from her obvious initial shock. Her calm serenity seemed a mirror of his old school mate's. "Simple, Severus," she said silkily. "Lucius gets to know that Draco is safe at Hogwarts next term. We get to know what you find out about any plans against our lives as they are discussed at your meetings with the Dark Lord. That's good enough for us.

And for you: Dumbledore gets the ability to better fight his enemies. I can only speak for myself here, but I would join you in battle if you decide to fight against the Death Eaters. I am already committed to training some aurors. Lucius on the other hand was chief Death Eater, and possesses secrets the Dark Lord and he would have zealously kept from everyone else, especially from someone Lucius suspected to be a spy. We may be persuaded to share them now. What do you say?"

Snape lifted his glass and regarded the deep amber color of his drink that caught the firelight. His decision came to him quite quickly. Nothing was ever as predictable and reliable as selfishness in oneself and in others. "Deal," he said quietly. Lucius lifted his brows and got up to top their glasses. As he sat down he placed a soft kiss on his lover's bare shoulder. "You know, Severus, Eleanor told me six years ago that an outcome very much like this had been Dumbledore's objective all along. Who would have thought that the fates would conspire to eventually prove the old fool right? Your master should be pleased.

In any case, that takes care of business," he declared. "It's almost midnight. And now I believe we have a birthday to celebrate."

**Epilogue: The Legacy of the Old Houses**

_"There's only one way to have a happy marriage and as soon as I learn what it is I'll get married again." (Clint Eastwood)_

Lucius woke from a loud holler in the garden and sat bolt upright in bed squinting into the bright light of morning. Another attack in broad daylight? He grabbed his wand from the night table and sped over to the window, snatching up his dressing gown on the way. He cursed under his breath as he tried to ignore a splitting headache, and the fact that Eleanor was not lying next to him. As he peered out from behind the curtains he soon saw the source of the racket: Draco zoomed right by the window on his Firebolt rattling the panes in hot pursuit of a snitch.

The wizard gripped his wand angrily. Now, they had discussed this before, and his son knew surely better than to raise hell around the house in the early morning, but then Draco turned his head to shout back at someone, and Lucius did a double-take as he next saw Eleanor race by, robes billowing behind her and her red hair streaming out. She threw her head back and laughed as she twisted her broom into a tight death-defying corkscrew roll. "It works, Draco!" she laughed. "Look! Wow! This is craaaaazyyyy!" And with that she was gone.

A few seconds later he saw his son and his lover turning spirals above the park diving after the snitch and waving at each other. He found an involuntary smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Still, the sunlight hurt his eyes and he soon dropped the curtains and made his way over to the side table that held his potions bottles. "Hecate, I swore I'd stop doing drinking games with Severus when I was still at Hogwarts. Where's the damn _Cephalalgia-_elixir," he murmured with knitted brows as his hands searched among the glass vials. He wondered briefly how Severus was dealing with his hangover this morning and hoped the potions master's was worse.

Eventually he had finished washing and dressing and had to admit that he was finally ready to face the day. It was Eleanor's birthday, and even through he had enjoyed their advance celebration the night before, he had some plans for her still. He ordered coffee from a house elf and instructed him to lay out breakfast in the garden for the three of them. Then he picked up his cup and made his way to his study.

Lucius Malfoy stretched his legs under the desk and held up the contents of a small box he had taken from a drawer. He twisted a filigreed gold band between his fingers. The metal lacework held dozens of tiny cut emeralds trapped in its mesh that sparkled like so many green dewdrops among miniature golden branches and leaves. His mother's handfasting ring was as beautiful and as extraordinary as the woman had been herself. Again Lucius regretted intensely that he had never been able to get to know her.

The blond wizard lifted a brow. Times were changing. Old alliances had broken and new ones were about to be forged. His life as a Death Eater was over. So was his connection to the house of Black. He held the last final link in his hands. The Dark Lord's great struggle for the supremacy of the old pureblood wizarding houses would go on without him, and he would be forced to watch the victories and defeats from the sidelines.

But goals could be reached by many ways. Where open fight would not serve, stealth might. The bloodlines could be conserved by different means. It was time the ancient and noble house of Sartorius got a legitimate infusion of pure blood. And he knew just the right man for the job. Lucius Malfoy suffered neither from self-doubt, nor from procrastination. With his usual unerring sense of purpose he put the ring back in its box, pocketed it, straightened his robes and headed for the garden.

* * *

Well, end of story! I would like to thank all of my faithful readers and reviewers, especially chisox and Sternenlicht, who didn't miss a chapter(!), Lady Lizzy who posted her notes to me on the UYJI forum and Vicky, who spread the love. Your feedback and support has been fantastic. It has been fun writing the continuation to "Secret of Sartorius" and I probably wouldn't have done it without your encouragement. 


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